


Reverse'verse Drabble Collection

by zosimos (trismegistus)



Series: Reverse'verse [56]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Original Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 25,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2186007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/zosimos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection all the Reverse'verse short fic I've posted via tumblr & typetrigger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. flashes of euphoria

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is an individual fic; most are too short to warrant their own entries here hence the collections.

"No," Edward said emphatically. "Absolutely not. I - no, I don’t care, I won’t, he tried to take apart my favorite rolling chair the last time we watched him-" There was a long pause, and Edward took a deep breath. "How many more times do I have to SAY it?"

Rian Martin stood half in the doorway to Edward’s office, watching with some amusement as Edward grew more and more animated. He had come up from the filing room with a pile of old, rejected State Alchemist applications for a research project Bailey had started on and Edward’s tirade was audible from the hallway. It was only a matter of time, now. Rian looked over to Havoc and Cushler, who were both watching him intently, but not willing to risk life and limb (and a month of weekend rotations) to get up and check on the colonel themselves. “Two minutes,” Rian stage-whispered, and Havoc held up six fingers.

They were interrupted by Edward making a noise that could only be described as deeply indignant. Rian looked up to see him wave his free hand about his head like his brother could see the action through the phone line. “YOUR TWO-YEAR-OLD TRIED TO KILL ME!” Edward shouted, before throwing the receiver back onto the hook.

"That’s some two-year-old," Cushler muttered, as Havoc grudgingly tossed over the spoils to Rian.

Edward’s office phone began ringing again almost immediately. Rian ducked his head back in the room, in time to see Edward throw a handful of papers into the air in aggravation, and pointedly ignore the insistently-ringing telephone on his desk. “Uh oh, we’re in full tantrum mode,” Rian reported back. “He just killed the Maxwell file.”

"Oh, man," Havoc groaned. "It took me all day yesterday to put that file together for him." He looked at Rian imploringly. "Can’t you stop him somehow?"

"If you want to try, I’ll sit over here and watch," Rian said. 

The solid scrape of Captain Hawkeye’s chair made all three of them look to her desk. She gathered her files into her arm, and Rian wisely got out of her way as she strode purposefully in to Edward’s office. Rian, Havoc and Cushler all exchanged looks as abruptly, the telephone stopped ringing.


	2. dancing with the devil

Rian Martin squinted at the saucepan with a measure of distrust. The liquid within bubbled almost cheerfully, boiling steadily. He glanced over his shoulder, into the den, where Edward was curled up in the overstuffed armchair, one leg tucked under and a book as long as Rian’s forearm propped open on his lap. He glanced back to the saucepan warily. The sauce looked as though it had not been tampered with, but Edward was well known to experiment with food, to little success. That was why Rian cooked and Edward was banned from the kitchen unsupervised.

But Rian had had to go look for his recipe book (and found it shoved between two large old tomes of alchemy that were in a language Rian could swear was entirely made up), and that left the food unguarded for several minutes. Several long, long minutes in which Edward could have successfully dropped a large handful of hot pepper into the saucepan again. He could not fathom how Edward could eat that much hot pepper, it made his eyes water to even think on it, but sure as the day was long Edward had tucked into that soup with a vengeance.

With a resolute sigh, Rian tried a taste of the sauce, bracing for impact. 

To his immense relief, the sauce tasted normal, unaltered. He sighed again, and put the ladle aside, glancing back over his shoulder. He found Edward watching him slyly over the edge of his book, and to his chagrin, Edward winked.


	3. breathtaking reality

They had gotten into a fight - which was not entirely abnormal, Edward’s default mode was set to ‘quarrel’ and Rian was headstrong and occasionally liked to yell - the difference being this time, they had had their spat in someone else’s home, and Rian did not have his usual corner to go sulk in and Edward did not have his big stuffed armchair by the fireplace to curl up in and pretend like he did not hear Rian clunking around the bedroom and inventing colorful new curses. 

It had been a stupid fight - they always were, when two people of like personalities clashed. Rian had stood in the kitchen, his eyes flashing defiantly and jaw tightening in anger, before slamming out the side door. The heavy door had slammed against the wall like a gunshot and Edward had flinched despite himself, throat raw and the skin around his eyes strangely tight. The argument had escalated quickly, a slightly raised voice turning into a shout and Rian was out the door in seconds - Edward did not have time to mull over anything except the intense stupidity of getting into relationships before his brother stormed into the room.

Alphonse Elric was nearly a head taller than his older brother, something which helped immensely when he was pissed. His dark blond hair was ruffled, badly in need of a good combing - he had been taking a well-deserved nap in the den, as it was a quiet Sunday afternoon - or it had been, until certain people had decided to have it out with all the subtlety of a freight train. Edward did not even bother to look up until Alphonse hoisted him out of his chair like a petulant kitten. 

"What the hell was that?" Alphonse asked, and Edward kept his eyes fixed on the table. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Edward mumbled. 

Alphonse sighed loudly, exasperated, and shoved his brother forward with one hand. “You are so lucky that the kids went with Winry shopping,” he said darkly. “If they had been here - if she had been here to witness that, she’d skelp the skin off your bones.” Alphonse watched his brother’s shoulders slump forward as he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed again. Edward liked a good argument, he would shout soldiers out of his office and go toe to toe with a few Generals if given the opportunity (fortunately he was kept on a fairly short leash, and Alphonse did not have to spend nearly as much of his resources on clean-up duty as he had in years past); but whenever he had a fight with Rian, it was like the end of the world. Alphonse clapped Edward’s shoulder and said, “he went out without his jacket, he couldn’t have gone far. Want me to go and get him?”

Edward shook his head sharply, ponytail flicking with the motion, before he lifted his head and looked at Alphonse. Alphonse was surprised at how tired Edward looked, as if the years of exhaustion from long hours at the office and mounds of stress had suddenly all dumped on him at once. “No,” Edward said. “No, it was stupid. I’ll go get him.”

* * *

The transmutation circle on the back of Rian’s glove glowed a brief blue, and the snow spun out, away from his hand in a dizzying vortex of wind. It was a simple transmutation, blowing the air up and away from him, sending the snow in the air swirling all around like the insides of a snow globe. The baggy, oversized sweater he had borrowed from Alphonse kept him warm, for now at least, and besides even if he started to get THAT cold, there was no way he was going back in there. 

Not yet, at least.

Edward was just so, so - infuriating, there was no other word for it. Rian wanted to smack him, and what was the worst was that he was fairly sure Edward would let him. He thought he was doing better, working on Edward to realize that the worst of the world’s ills were not his personal fault nor duty to fix, but sometimes it seemed to backslide horribly into days like today. Most of the time he could ignore it, and let Edward’s self-deprecating comments slide off his back. But for some reason it needled him just wrong, and he watched Edward work too damn hard to treat himself like that. And then they had to go and fight like that.

Rian turned on his heel and punched the tree he had stopped beneath. That was a mistake on two accounts - the first being that the bark was coated in icy crystals and he split two knuckles, the second being he hit the tree hard enough to upset the snow nestled lightly in its bare branches. Rian held his hand and stared straight ahead as three inches of snow dumped over him like a wintry waterfall. “Great,” he muttered, breath frosting in the air. “Even the flora around here is mocking me.”

He heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow and did not look back, running both of his hands through his hair and shaking it out like a dog. His hand stung like hell, and Alphonse had come out to schlep him inside like he was one of the kids. Not that he really didn’t deserve it for storming outside in the middle of a snowy January day, but he was almost twenty, it was degrading.

"Are you all right?" Edward’s voice surprised him, and Rian did look back. Unconsciously he pressed the back of his injured right hand against his mouth and forgot he was wearing gloves, so only got a taste of fabric instead of the blood he knew was there from the split knuckles. 

"I’ve had worse," Rian grunted, and Edward stared at him silently. They both knew he’d had worse, and the last thing Rian wanted was Edward listing all the ways that he would be better off without being in the military. The barbed words still sat sour on Rian’s tongue, and he grimaced and looked away. "Ed-"

"I’m sorry," Edward said softly, beating him to the punch. 

Rian looked up in shock, and caught the distasteful expression flicker across Edward’s face. “What?”

"I said, I’m sorry," Edward repeated. "I didn’t mean to yell at you."

"Bullshit," Rian said, astonished. "You like to yell at me. You like to yell at everybody."

"That’s true," Edward admitted. "I guess, I mean - look," he snorted impatiently. "I don’t know what I mean. Alphonse is probably watching us from the window to make sure we kiss and make up before he’ll let us back inside."

"You woke Al?" Rian shook his head. "Man."

"I think you woke Al, when you call me - what did you call me again?"

Rian grinned at him. “A fucking fuckwit.”

"Ah yes. Very clever." Edward shook his head.

"Hey, you’re one to talk," Rian said. "The best insult you can come up with wore out about two years ago once I was legal."

Edward slung his arm over Rian’s shoulder. “Don’t remind me. You’re bleeding through the glove, how did you bust your hand open?”

"Punching the tree," Rian said, covering his right hand with his left. 

"Smart move." Edward steered him gently back toward the house, where he could see Alphonse at the kitchen window. "Let’s go get you bandaged up, hm?"

"You’re still a fuckwit."

Edward pressed a kiss to the side of Rian’s head, to the damp hair plastered to his temple. "I know.”


	4. remember me

It’s early evening, and the sun’s last rays are glinting off the metal in the windowsill. The work day is long over, and the office is mostly deserted - Roy’s jacket is off, hanging on the back of his office chair and his sleeves are rolled up. Alphonse is there too, his crutches left against the wall by the door, and they’re laughing. It’s Edward’s birthday - he never celebrated it, never saw a reason to - but he’s happy, here and now. Roy has a bottle of whiskey on his desk and some glasses, when he offers it to Al Edward gives him a dirty look, but Alphonse declines it. He’s still too weak, he says, the alcohol wouldn’t sit right anyway. 

The dying sunlight gives the office a warm amber glow, colored like fine scotch, and Edward catches Roy looking at him with a smile. They can be so open here, right now - he knows Al is watching them and doesn’t care, and Alphonse politely finds the bookshelf interesting when Edward leans down into Roy’s kiss.

He wakes to Rian’s hand on his face, warm and different, wiping the tears from his cheek.


	5. suffer the agony

When Edward sneezed three times in a row, Rian looked up and frowned. Edward sniffed unconvincingly, he had sneezed into the sleeve of his military jacket and wiped his gloved hand across his nose, still squinting at the packet of papers he held tight in his other hand. It was nearing the end of the month, and that meant overtime as they scrabbled to get in all the reports and have everything all straightened out before the new month began. As a liaison to the unit, technically Rian didn’t have anything to do with the reporting … his job was mostly a go-fer, courier position because he was supposed to be concentrating on research to further the military’s nebulous goals.

That being said, Edward wasn’t all that efficient when it came to paperwork. It wasn’t that he tried to shirk his duty, per se - but he would occasionally get a bug in his ear about something else going on on base, or get an idea for something arcane and obscure and spend half the day in the restricted section of the library before Captain Hawkeye would go fetch him herself.

Impressively, she was not standing over Edward this evening with her usually severe expression - her renowned sharpshooting and sniper skills had earned her a new alternate duty as squadron instructor. She had not been transferred out of the unit entirely - but now she would be found more often than not training with the active duty soldiers on base to make sure no one was slacking in their shooting scores. There had been much discussion about this slightly lateral move, including the Captain’s own hesitancy. But ultimately she had gone, and now three times a week the colonel was left alone to close up shop.

Rian watched Edward read with a concerned expression. He had been a bit more listless than usual recently - not that getting him out of bed in the morning was sunshine and roses, but it had grown exponentially more difficult. Rian had ascribed that to the weather, and the winter. Edward just didn’t do winter, he was always cranky and recalcitrant and somehow put on a mask of responsibility that didn’t quite fit while on the job. But Edward didn’t really get that sick - he had a constitution made of sheer force of will. He had taken two sick days in the time that Rian had known him, and he was only genuinely sick for one of them. 

Edward snuffled a bit before sneezing again, and Rian sighed. “Colonel, you’re sick.”

Edward scrubbed his gloved hand over his nose again and didn’t look up. “‘m fine,” he said. “Just got something in my nose.” He snuffled again and Rian winced. 

"Don’t you have a handkerchief? That’s gross."

"Uh." Edward wrinkled his nose. "Maybe? I think I might have-" he stopped mid-thought to scrub his hand over his nose again. "No, no it’s definitely gone."

Rian sighed and sat forward on the couch, closing the folder and setting it on the desk. “Let’s call it a night. Everyone else has already gone home, and the last thing you need is to start snotting on the reports. Captain Hawkeye’ll have kittens if she finds crusty goop on them.”

Edward sighed and put the folder down. “I’m not sick,” he enunciated.

"You sound like you’re talking through a towel," Rian said. 

"I’m just a little congested. I’ve been worse off."

Rian shook his head as he straightened the folders on Edward’s desk. “You’re comparing physical injury to a cold again, colonel.” He pointed at Edward as Edward settled his chin in the same hand he’d been wiping his nose on. “Oh, gross. The gloves come off now. They need to be washed.”

Edward lifted his head. “The cold will get in my joints,” he whined.

"Colonels don’t get to whine," Rian said. "Take them off."

* * *

It was bitterly cold outside. Rian didn’t miss the way that Edward shivered, even as they bundled into the military vehicle. Lieutenant Havoc had been hanging around the canteen despite having been off duty for a few hours, so he had offered to drive them both home. Technically, Rian’s home was in the barracks with the other soldiers, but Havoc didn’t even make mention of stopping off there. It was a well-known secret that Rian had taken over as Edward’s official wrangler.

(In more senses than one.)

Edward sneezed seven times before Rian stopped counting. Havoc glanced back at them both in the rearview mirror. “You all right, boss?” he asked.

"Everyone keeps asking me that," Edward said sullenly. "I’m fine."

"You don’t SOUND fi-"

"I’m FINE, Lieutenant," Edward said icily. Havoc’s eyes flitted to Rian’s, and Rian shrugged his shoulders slightly and rolled his eyes. Edward side-eyed the younger alchemist hard. "I saw that, Martin."

The walk to the flat was still swept clear, although there were patches of shiny dark ice. They crunched through the slush to the door, and once through the door Edward let out a huge sigh, and then started coughing. Rian hadn’t even unwound his scarf yet. “You are so totally not all right,” Rian said sharply, and Edward inhaled a bit and gave Rian a weak glare.

“‘m fin-“

"If you say "I’m fine" one more time, I am going to disconnect all of your automail and lock you in the bedroom for a week," Rian said, dead-serious. Edward glowered at him - Rian was still slightly shorter than he was, but that was due to change any time now. 

"I’d like to see you try," Edward rumbled dangerously.

Rian extended one hand and shoved Edward in the shoulder, hard. Edward stumbled back into the wall, his eyes wide with surprise at how easily he went. “You’re off your game, old man,” Rian said, his tone matched to Edward’s. “You’re sick, you’re weak, and you are going to go get undressed right this instant while I make dinner.” He started to unwind his scarf. “Pick the bed or the couch, I don’t care, but you are sitting the fuck down for a while.”

Edward opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it after a moment, and snapped his jaw shut. “I’m your commanding officer, you can’t treat me like this,” he muttered, but shucked off his coat anyway. He shuffled off down the hallway muttering something about Alphonse being a bad influence. Rian exhaled the breath he had been holding - sometimes all Edward needed was someone to bully him in the right direction. Rian sniffed a bit and rubbed the back of his hand over his nose as he hung his scarf up.

Man, if he caught whatever creeping crud Edward had, he was going to make the colonel _pay._


	6. bound by iron

There was a weight room on base - soldiers are expected to keep in shape, after all, even if it’s not something as strictly enforced as it should be. Losing his sparring partner really hurt, and Edward spent as much downtime as he could spare in the weight room. He rarely made an appearance if there were others there, but like most things on the base there was no curfew observed. If he could schlep himself out of bed in the morning he might go before work and take advantage of the abundance of hot water in the showers to rinse off, but he mostly utilized the weights room in the evening, after everyone but the PFCs on guard duty and the overnight shift were gone.

It was cathartic, destroying the sandbags, although even then he had to pull his punches lest the jointed automail tear through the canvas with the force of his punches. He hated himself for the thought, but if there was one thing he missed about Alphonse’s armor, it was the fact that he never once had to pull a punch when sparring. It was the one time he could go all-out and at worse only injure himself. 

He couldn’t always get down to the weight room to unleash - in fact as his work piled up it became more of a luxury than a necessity. He was a desk worker now, for the most part - and he simply couldn’t afford the time to go beat the punching bag until it was twisted up funny and half-embedded in the wall. 

Edward flexed his left hand - he could flex the right one as well, but at this point the extraneous movement was silly at best. He knew the limits of his false limb better than anyone (with the exception of his mechanic, who would make that point every time he saw her), and when he was alone there was little need to pretend with the little human nuances such as constant movement. Some kind soul had repaired the punching bag yet again, stitching it and filling it again after meticulously picking the bits up from the pile Edward had somewhat guilty swept together after his last session. He could have transmuted it himself of course, but that would, first off, let everyone know that he was the guilty party and secondly, no one here appreciated the curving dragon’s head hook he had added to the ceiling. Edward hmphed to himself, putting both hands on the bag to steady it, not even breathing hard.

He was barely twenty-five, and probably in the best shape out of anyone on this base and he already felt like he was going to pot. Running around the country on his own two legs and getting into more scrapes than the average soldier would see in their entire military career before the age of fifteen set rather a high bar for the rest of his life. He tried not to stew on it and instead focus on working up a good solid sweat.

On top of just the general frustration of the job there was also the stewing in his mind about the State Alchemist that had been assigned to his unit. Acting-Fuhrer Dalton was smarmy smart-ass who was far too fond of baiting Edward as mildly as possible (not that that didn’t remind him of someone else he knew, but that was a wound that he didn’t want to tear open anytime soon), but there had to be an ulterior motive to assigning the kid to his unit. He had been intending on tearing someone a new one about letting fucking kids take the State Alchemist’s exam - but despite everything, the military still loved its human weapons, especially those who had perfected such a brilliant weaponized alchemy.

But it just had to be that kid.

Edward felt the joint of his automail catch on one of the stitched-together bits of canvas and he yanked his hand back, but the damage was already done. He stared at the growing pile of sand at his feet and exhaled, letting his fists drop to his sides. 

Dalton was up to something.

The trouble was, Edward had no idea what.


	7. caught in the act

The filing room was like the library - full of tall, overfull bookshelves that cast murky shadows. The difference was that no one went down to the filing room for any reason but to retrieve old reports, so the room was often empty for most of the day. It was the perfect place for a secret rendezvous. 

There was the soft clatter of an overturned pile of folders as Rian staggered backward a step, his arms over Edward’s shoulders as Edward nudged him against the shelves. Rian’s mouth barely left Edward’s but to take quick, jerking breaths, his face flushed crimson back to his ears. Edward lifted his head and watched Rian pant through half-closed eyes, the ghost of a smirk fluttering around his expression. 

It was a bad idea, Edward knew. He had a long education in the history of bad ideas - it was the Elric legacy - but the cocky smirk this brat had given him when he had kissed Edward and run off had set something aflame in his blood that he hadn’t known he missed. It had been far too long since he had felt the warmth of another person crushed to him as their mouths met, and Rian didn’t even put up a token struggle as Edward pressed him back against the shelves. A few more folders fell, knocked askew by Rian’s elbow as he shifted position, bracing one hand against the shelf and the other firmly gripping Edward’s neck.

Where had a kid learned to kiss like this?

Edward licked his lips, each breath through his lungs felt like fire. Rian wasn’t a kid, though, wasn’t that much of a kid - seventeen was worlds away from fifteen, and Edward should not feel this spike of guilt through his gut like he was betraying someone. It was a quick spasm but Rian must have seen the pain flash through his eyes, he pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, averted his eyes.

Five years, his libido screamed at him. What, do you want me to become a monk?

"Sorry," Rian mumbled, his eyes averted to the floor. His word brought Edward back just that quickly, snapped everything into crystal-clear focus and the simple, defeated tone actually made him angry.

Sorry? Rian was sorry? Sorry for what, awakening the beast inside, making Edward remember the warmth and how it felt to be wanted, actually wanted by someone else? Sorry for kissing him, sorry for meeting his eye and smiling, sorry for what, exactly? Edward couldn’t process the word and he felt the anger take over in its entirety instead.

Edward grabbed Rian’s chin and forced his head up, Rian’s slate-gray eyes followed quickly, snapping to Edward’s face in alarm. 

"I’m not," Edward said roughly, and covered Rian’s mouth again with his own.


	8. finality

A steady rain drizzled from the heavens, beating a careless pattern against the glass. Edward Elric sat at the window, his automail arm propped in the sill and his chin in his hand as he watched the late winter weather without actually seeing it. 

In the distance sat the military cemetery, a line of cars stretching past the wrought-iron gates. Black umbrellas lined the procession, like dark mushrooms they sprouted from the sides of vehicles. It was melancholy weather, all the better for a somber farewell. Edward made a scornful noise in the back of his throat - every funeral he had been to had bright blue skies burned into his memory. He felt the burn beginning behind his eyes and swallowed, focusing instead on the rainwater as it traced patterns down the outside of the window.

It had only been a few months. 

"Lieutenant Colonel?" 

Edward looked up at the voice. The rank still didn’t fit him well, but at least now he responded when someone addressed him. He straightened a bit, turning toward the speaker. The nurse smiled at him, patronizingly but Edward had gotten used to that. So many people still treated him like he was made of glass. Let them mollycoddle him, he didn’t care anymore. there were other, more important things to do. “The doctor is ready for you,” she said, clutching her clipboard to her chest and indicating the direction they would be going in.

Getting to his feet - both figuratively and literally - was taking far longer than what he had anticipated. He had lost a lot of valuable time locked within his own head; he was very fortunate to have General Grumman step in and sponsor him. The old man was very influential and was one of Mustang’s own allies. The military might have just dumped him as another causality otherwise.

On the other front though, Edward was used to quick fixes. If his automail misbehaved, Winry would have him up and running in a matter of days. A broken leg - especially one as badly broken as his had been - took a lot longer to heal. Even now he still had to use a cane on most days, a concession he did not like to make.

The nurse waited patiently, thankfully silent as Edward struggled painfully to his feet. The cast had been off for a while, but it would be longer yet before he would be back to full working order. The doctors too didn’t seem to believe that Edward would be running around like he used to, but if there was one thing Edward was good at it was understanding his own body. However, the military mandated these check-ups, and there was no good way to get out of them.

"Awfully convenient to have the cemetery so close to the hospital," Edward muttered darkly as he followed the nurse, limping only slightly and trying not to show how much he was leaning on the cane.

The nurse pursed her lips, clearly unappreciative of the observation. “That is an awfully morbid thought, Lieutenant Colonel,” she said tersely. Edward quirked an eyebrow, amused at himself for irritating her. He had never liked nurses, or hospitals for that matter.

He was shown to an actual office, not an examination room. Edward stood inside the room as the nurse shut the door behind him, and glanced around with mild interest. It was a different turn of events, to be certain. The doctor was not in his office, and Edward stumped to a chair, slinging himself down with a relieved sigh, glad to be off his feet again.

While the automail meant that he didn’t have to wheel himself around in a wheelchair while stuck in a cast, it also inhibited his healing a lot more than he realized. It was a frustrating, slow, agonizing process and if he ever had to go through it again he might just ask to have the leg chopped off and replaced. 

When the door to the office opened again he glanced back, to see a bespectacled doctor in a white coat walk in with a clipboard. It wasn’t his usual physician, and Edward had the feeling he had been bamboozled. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant Colonel,” the man said breezily, glancing down at his clipboard. “May I call you Ed?”

"My rank is fine," Edward said, all of his hackles up. He didn’t usually care what people called him, but his defenses were up, and he was legally an adult now. He could get in a lot of trouble for just punching people, no matter how justified he was. “Who are you? Where’s Doctor Kelley?”

"Doctor Kelley’s out for the week," the man said, sitting down while still studying his clipboard. He set the wooden board at his desk and smiled at Edward, and Edward had the overwhelming urge to punch this man anyway. "Call me Doctor Dee, if we’re going by titles."

Edward sat back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle. This man was too bright, too artificially cheerful. “You’re not a regular physician here,” Edward said sharply. “You’ve been brought in here specifically to handle me, haven’t you?”

Dee raised his eyebrows innocently. “What makes you say that, Lieutenant Colonel?”

Edward folded his hands in front of his face, elbows propped on the armrests. “Because I sent the last head doctor out of the room screaming within twenty minutes,” he said, smirking slightly at the memory. “Care to make a wager on how long you’ll last?”

"I think you mistake my intentions," the man said calmly, looking down at his clipboard. "This isn’t a mental evaluation. You passed all of those with flying colors - traumatizing the psychiatrist notwithstanding.” 

It was hard not letting the frown out, but Edward managed to keep the worst of it from his face. He didn’t usually misjudge a situation so blatantly, so either this doctor was lying to him or there was something else going on. “Then what sort of appointment is this?”

The man met Edward’s eye, and asked the question point-blank. “What exactly was your relationship with the late General Mustang?”

Edward’s heart stopped beating.


	9. i covet you

Rian Martin was distracting.

Edward was supposed to be paying attention to Captain Hawkeye - she was outlining the meeting notes for him, talking about troop movement in the North (boring), budget restrictions (excruciatingly boring), and the appointment and advancement of a few choice members of the military (marginally more interesting, but just slightly). It was all he could do to repress the yawn that was building, but then he caught a glimpse of Rian from the corner of his eye and turned his head, watching curiously.

Rian wasn’t tall. There was the looming, likely threat that he would be taller than Edward when all was said and done, but right now Edward could exalt in the fact that he was not the shortest member of his unit. However, unlike Edward, Rian didn’t seem all that bothered by his lack of height. He buzzed around the office, his heavy coat hung on the rack with the rest of the winter coats but he had neglected to unwind the scarf from around his neck. It was a deep crimson color, not quite the color of blood, and it flapped with his movement. 

He was keeping it on to hide the dark mark that had been sucked into his neck just that past night.

Hawkeye cleared her throat, and Edward jumped, his attention returning to her guiltily. “My apologies,” he murmured.

She raised an eyebrow at him, and then her eyes followed his original line of sight. “Sir,” Hawkeye said, a heavy air of disapproval in her voice.

"Please continue," Edward said with a nod, hoping that she took the hint and that Rian was not on the table for discussion. That prompted an image of Rian naked but for his scarf, spread out on Edward’s desk and not for the first time Edward was grateful for how baggy the military trousers were.

Hell, Edward had no idea what he was doing. It was a stupid risk to be taking - with a kid, even - but that annoying little voice in the back of his mind (that STILL sounded like Al, even despite it being years) reminded him nastily that Rian was older than Edward was when Edward first started having sex. Besides, wasn’t it Rian who first came to him, who first pursued HIM?

That was no excuse. He was an adult, he knew better - but it was intoxicating being wanted like this. That was what had really bridged the gap, the sheer force of Rian’s stubbornness and want; and no one had displayed interest in him like THAT since the last time Roy Mustang looked at him. That particular thought made his heart hurt, and perhaps that echoed across his face, because Hawkeye sighed deeply and put down the clipboard. “Sir, are you paying any attention at all?”

Edward rubbed his gloved hand over his eyes. “Not a bit,” he admitted to Hawkeye. It was easier than lying, because she KNEW when he lied, no matter what, and maybe she would let him off the hook if he plead insanity. “It’s boring as fuck, Captain.”

He couldn’t tell her that he had thought about Roy, smiling even with the sand in his hair and a cut above his eye that had run blood long-dried down the side of his face. She, out of all of them, who would understand the most easily why Edward’s lungs had felt turned inside out by the thought, but he didn’t tell her, he couldn’t. Roy chose him.

Edward wasn’t sure if Hawkeye had ever forgiven Roy for that.

Hawkeye tucked the papers away quietly. “If you’re not capable of focusing on the task at hand, perhaps you should remove what distracts you,” she suggested, her voice calm. Edward winced, he knew he must have pissed her off, but getting Hawkeye to show those sort of emotions in the office was akin to airborne pork products.

Edward looked down at the desk - removing Rian from the office would be an end to the distractions, but. But having him here made Edward feel light, made him feel like he could accomplish all of his goals just with Rian to encourage him, and he did not want to extinguish that flame.

He had to wonder if Rian knew the extent to which he affected Edward. He could not possibly know the depth of it all, and that was a shame. Edward put his chin in his hand and watched Rian lean over Cushler’s desk, his arm full of folders as he jabbed at something excitedly with one finger. Cushler shook his head emphatically, and Rian smacked his shoulder, before turning and looking toward Edward’s office.

Edward was caught watching. He ducked his head, staring down at the folder on his desk, feeling almost like a chastened schoolboy. When he looked up again, it was because he heard Rian enter his office, arms full of folders. There was no time for Edward to make himself look busy, so he just had to sigh instead. “What are all those?”

"Captain Hawkeye said that since you’re so bored you should take a loot at these reports, she was gonna give’em to Bailey but apparently you’re in the doghouse, Colonel." Rian dumped the folders in Edward’s mostly-conquered inbox and Edward groaned despite himself. 

Rian shook his head as Edward picked up the first unfathomably thick folder. “What did you even do?”

"I fell in love," Edward muttered, and he looked up in time to see the blush spreading across Rian’s cheeks. He hadn’t even realized what he said until he saw Rian’s reaction, and his own cheeks colored slightly at the implication.

"I’m distracted, Rian, I just-" Edward said quickly, the words falling out of his mouth in a jumble. Rian jerked slightly at that, like a marionette on strings, and he nodded his head sharply.

"Right, right, I’ll go and uh, do stuff," he said lamely.

Edward nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, do stuff,” he repeated.

Rian edged toward the door and Edward looked down at the folder to prevent himself from watching Rian’s ass as it exited the room. What the hell was going ON with him? He didn’t need this crap. Not today, not any day.

Unbidden, he thought again of Roy, the first time Roy had said those words, so measured and confident and timed perfectly right to elicit a confused, pleased flail. Dammit, Edward could only hope to be that smooth, someday.

He flipped two pages into the report, started to read, and returned to his daydream of Rian spread out naked on the desk for him. 

After all, he had his priorities.


	10. screaming silence

The flat was plenty large for a single person - one bedroom, one bath, a kitchen and a good-sized den. No room for an office, but that was all right; Edward planned to leave the office AT the office, he didn’t need a study. It was in a well-traveled military neighborhood; there was a couple who lived upstairs that seemed nice, if a little off-put by the newly promoted colonel.

The movers hadn’t come yet; the flat was still empty. It seemed small, though - plain, bare beige walls and clean white tile that reflected the harsh florescent light. Edward ran his automail fingers along the counter as he paced the kitchen silently.

It had been a find, Alphonse waving the paper triumphantly - better than the military barracks, it wouldn’t do for an officer to be living among the soldiers - but Edward was still completely unsure. He had lived in many places in his short life, but one thing he had never done was live alone.

He could hear the upstairs neighbors - not clearly, but the occasional movement of feet above his head. However there was no Winry bustling out of the kitchen, oil streaked on her forehead from where she had triumphantly fixed the leaking faucet No fighting for space with Alphonse in the old operating room-turned-study. 

(No Roy, to bump shoulders with companionably as they fixed breakfast.)

Edward dismissed the thoughts by pacing out the bedroom again. The flat did not come furnished, and he had to actually buy furniture for the first time in his life. He had wanted to hand-make some things but Alphonse talked him out of it - he had a salary now, on top of the State Alchemist expense account, and it was time for him to buy his own things. 

Besides, Alphonse had argued, having horned skulls on the headboard might concern some people.

Edward lingered in the doorway and feigned a small smile, although he did not know who he was smiling for. His brother tried, really - he had been trying to set Edward up on dates, anything to get him out of his funk. He was too busy for that, though. Having been nominated and accepted for a promotion, moving from General Grumman’s command to General Dalton’s - and then being orphaned very quickly from that command when Dalton became acting-Fuhrer.

Technically his reporting officer was now General Baxter; but Edward had never met the man and things seemed to be working just fine as they had before Dalton accepted that nomination, so maybe nothing else would change there. But with his own promotion he had to assemble a staff from the junior officers.

The funny thing was, the day after he was promoted four junior officers applied in for the assembling command. Havoc’s name he had expected to see; they had discussed this from day one. Hawkeye’s … had been more of a surprise. After the funeral, two years ago he had seen her once, in passing, in the halls of Central. It was encouraging, and terrifying, to even think of someone he respected like Riza Hawkeye being his subordinate. It seemed like it should really be the other way around.

The other two were Breda and Fuery. Edward had met with them and Havoc in a tavern off-base, in civilian clothes. As much as he wanted to surround himself with allies, the fact that Mustang’s old unit seemed to be reforming under someone else from that very unit would not only send up every red flag on base, it would also catch the attention of the acting-Fuhrer. Fortunately, everyone agreed with his sentiment and there were no hard feelings to be had. He knew that he could count and Breda and Fuery both - Breda having gone to the North to serve with Falman under General Armstrong, and Fuery to the East to work in the Intelligence department with his brother.

That left two open slots in his command that were still yet to be filled. It was yet another piece of the puzzle that had not come together, but there was still time. He was very young to be a Colonel. There was a long road ahead to even get to where Roy was when Edward met him, nevermind where he needed to be to advance his path.

Edward walked into the hallway and through the foyer, into the den. The room was completely empty save the large, empty hearth - and an ancient grandfather clock. It was the only piece of furniture that Edward had brought with him … it had come, with three boxes, from the executor of Roy’s estate.

Edward hated the clock. It barely kept time correctly, it had to be wound far more frequently than once a month, and the chimes were strange and discordant. He would wake to it, in the middle of the night, and remember lying half-awake in Roy’s arms as it faintly chimed the new day.

He had not even known that Roy had a will, nevermind had left provisions for both the Elric brothers. He suspected it was to allay suspicion, but both Hawkeye and Havoc had parcels as well. Roy had left him the damn clock - for what reason Edward didn’t know, perhaps simply to remind him how much Edward could hate the man when he was an ass. The other three boxes he had not opened yet, and still sat sealed in Granny Pinako’s attic. It was bad enough knowing the memories this clock held. What else could be in those boxes?

He sat, finally tired of pacing, his back against the wall underneath the large picture window in the den. It was across from the clock, which ticked ominously and Edward tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. The movers would be here soon, with his new furniture and his sparse belongings and probably four times his weight in books. Then there would be unpacking, and a housewarming party, and then -

\- and then Edward would be left in his new home.

Alone.

Edward rested his head on his folded arms and listened to the soothing heartbeat sound of the old clock ticking and waited.


	11. the power of goodbye

Dinner was a late affair, as it often was. Edward was late often, through no true fault of his own - meetings ran long, emergencies cropped up, there was always more work that needed to be done. Rian was used to this - as he was used to the funk that Edward would be in by the time he trudged through the door. The winter was always the worst time for it, Edward’s mood came in two colors; sullen and melancholy.

For someone who was so full of life in the office, bright and vibrant and always ready with a comeback the quiet malaise that Edward seemed to exist in at home always bothered Rian. He had never really noticed the shift before, but ‘before’ there had always been this separation between them, a divide where Rian left and lived in the military dorms when he wasn’t humoring Edward or picking up around the apartment. That part of their life was long over, and now Rian’s (admittedly few) possessions had been moved in and he had become this fixture in Edward’s life.

They never discussed it. It wasn’t like Edward ignored him - he would favor Rian with a smile, ask how his day was, they would shoot the shit about office crap and whatever Rian was currently working on. Edward would tease and Rian would get infuriated and scrub a plate so hard he would end up breaking it in the sink. But left to his own devices, Edward would take a tumbler of whiskey into the den and sit in that old, overstuffed armchair beside the fireplace and stare quietly into its dark depths.

The solution, of course, was to keep Edward busy. Rian would force him to help with dinner, although the most that Edward was often allowed to do was to stir the sauce, or check the noodles. Rian had learned very quickly that if they were going to eat MEALS, he had better not let Edward cook them. 

(Rian had this nagging suspicion that before he moved in, Edward mostly ate dry toast and coffee, with the occasional chunk of unsliced lunchmeat. Those were usually the only things to be found in the icebox, at the very minimum.)

They existed peacefully, though. Edward’s melancholy spells - while disquieting - never seemed to truly impact their relationship.


	12. one final look back

Rian Martin sat (well, crouched) at the base of the stairs that led to the main building. It was a grey, rainy day - the sun hadn’t bothered to poke its head from behind the heavy dark clouds in days, and everyone’s mood was worse for it. It was cold, too - not unseasonably, but enough that Edward had been griping this morning, rubbing his right shoulder awkwardly and moving stiffly.

His automail always bothered him at the change in weather. It didn’t matter how extreme the temperature change was, when it got colder he got crankier. Rian had resorted to calling Winry earlier in the day for ideas. Outside of hot compresses and rest, there really wasn’t much he could do to help.

The rain kept shifting from freezing cold droplets to a fair bit of snow, small hard flakes that didn’t so much spin as they did bounce off of him and the ground. Things were warm enough that the snow wouldn’t stick, but the constant changes in precipitation were starting to give HIM a headache, he couldn’t even imagine how cranky Edward would be when he emerged from his meeting.

A little bored, Rian placed his bare hand palm-down on the concrete. The scars were faint, on his palms - he did not have the transmutation circle inked in, he never intended it to be permanent, after all - but he felt the tingle of static as the current moved through him, and a blast of air rose around his hand, blowing snow and rain away from him.

The transmutation circles were at first no good. They had been smeared before they were seared into his palms, and using them ran the risk of a really bad rebound reaction. However one late night when they had both had too much to drink Edward studied them under the bright cold light of his kitchen and, with a few small adjustments with a knife, completed the circles. Rian had been sauced enough to agree to it, and it had come in handy since - but the thought of a tipsy Edward with a steak knife near his palms was enough to make him shudder while sober.

Now he could transmute, though - the two circles were independent of each other, one to cause his favorite wind vortex, the other one far more dangerous. However, if he combined the circles together the core element formed a vary basic transmutation array that allowed him to transmute most things, including his speciality of air alchemy. It was a clever bit of alteration on Edward’s part, and Rian was more amused that with a simple clapping motion he could transmute almost anything.

(Just like me, Edward had said proudly, as Rian pressed both palms into the old towel while he waited for the bleeding to stop.)

Rian looked up as several soldiers started spilling out from the doors, pulling on hats or covering their heads with hard black folders. Rian watched them move silently, from his position at the foot of the stairs, in the shadow of the guardian lion. He was eternally wary around soldiers, even with General Howard dead (or presumed so, Rian would never quite believe his hated enemy was gone forever without a body as proof), so he watched carefully and silently. 

Edward was one of the last out, stopping at the top of the stairs while he argued with some of the other soldiers he exited with. They stood under the awning to argue, safe from the somewhat steady drizzle of precipitation.

It was fascinating to watch Edward in his element, arguing with two people at once, his voice and stance conveying the very strong indicator that he knew he was superior to the people he was arguing with but never stating the words outright. Edward turned his head sharply, which caused his ponytail to swish as he jabbed a finger at a third man, his words lost in the wind but his tone of voice carrying plently cleanly.

Edward was very good at his job. Rian stood finally, slowly, his knees complaining at having been locked in a crouch in this weather for so long. Rian had visions of an early supper, some hot water compresses for Edward’s achey joints, and perhaps a blowjob. His sudden rise caught Edward’s eye and he paused, head half-turned as he looked down the stairs to see Rian waiting there for him.

Edward smiled.

Rian grinned back, nodding his head. They couldn’t kiss, it was a danger to even touch on base, but their relationship didn’t always need those physical markers. Rian turned his back on Edward, jamming his hands in his pockets as he watched the soldiers all around him, watching for any threat to his colonel that might lurk out there. 

Edward might be able to take care of himself - but now it was Rian’s job to protect him.


	13. through the eyes of a child

Alphonse blew out a breath in annoyance, holding the toddler out, away from his body. Sarah burbled happily, staring down and kicking her feet as she hung in mid-air. “For goodness sake, Brother,” Alphonse said. “she’s just a baby, she’s not going to bite you.”

"That’s what you said about the last one," Edward said warily. "It took you and Winry both to make Thomas let go."

"Okay, well," Alphonse amended. "SHE is not a biter. That we know of."

Edward shook his head emphatically. “Nope.”

"Come on," Alphonse insisted. "Just take her, okay? It’s only for a few minutes." Sarah giggled, flailing her tiny arms and watching her feet intently. "I promise I won’t leave her here all day, I just have to get through this meeting. It’ll be an hour, tops."

Edward was sitting behind his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. “Gonna hafta do better than that, Al,” he said emphatically. “Besides, Winry strictly forbade me from babysitting duty until they’re old enough to take care of themselves anyway.”

Alphonse sighed deeply, propping Sarah back up against his hip. She blew a raspberry and giggled again, grabbing on to the bright blue of Alphonse’s military uniform. “Winry’s got Thomas, it’s not like you have to worry about that little terror. Besides, Sarah adores you and you know it.”

"She likes my hair, she thinks that it’s food. That’s different."

"What am I going to have to bribe you with?" Alphonse said after a long moment of silence. "Because I will resort to bribery if I have to. Or blackmail. Whichever gets me the result I want the fastest."

"You have nothing on me," Edward said, but he didn’t sound so sure. Alphonse gave him a flat look, and Edward made a face. "You have so much shit on me," he said. "But I don’t care. Publish a newspaper of all my darkest secrets. Plaster it up on the walls in a two-story poster. I don’t care. You couldn’t bribe me enough to babysit while I’m on the clock-"

The door to the office opened, and Rian Martin stuck his head in. “Am I interrupting ” he asked, and the baby turned her head toward Rian and stuck out an arm expectantly. “Oh! Hi, Lieutenant Colonel.”

"RIAN." Alphonse’s voice verged on triumphant. "Can I impose on you to watch Sarah for an hour or two while I finish dealing with a meeting? Winry took Thomas out shopping, and I didn’t expect an emergency meeting."

"Sure," Rian said, stepping in the office and letting the door stand open. Sarah swiveled to him and held out both arms expectantly, and Alphonse transferred her to Rian. "Colonel wouldn’t agree to it, huh."

"Sadly," Alphonse murmured. "He doesn’t appear to be the best with infants anyway, so perhaps it is for the best."

"Oi," Edward said. "I’m right here."

Rian glanced back at Edward, as Sarah buried her face in his shoulder and made a contented noise. “Came by to warn you, Captain Hawkeye’s on her way back from the shooting range, she isn’t in the best of moods. I’d clear out if I were you.”

Alphonse shook his head. “I’ve got to get to the meeting. I’ll come find you when I’m through, thanks a million, Rian.” He leaned over, kissing the top of Sarah’s head and brushing her hair back, before waving his hand at his brother and leaving out the door. 

Edward glared at Rian, who shifted the baby so that he could reach into the satchel that he wore slung over his head. He withdrew a few folders, and after setting those on Edward’s desk, also pulled a wrapped sandwich. “You skipped lunch,” he said. “I stopped by the canteen and picked you up something to munch on, I figured you would be cranky by now anyway.” Edward eyed the brown paper-wrapped sandwich and, after a long moment of hesitation, tore in to the packaging. 

Sarah sighed against Rian’s shoulder, already asleep. Rian shifted her slightly so he had her better arranged, and then shook his head at Edward. “She’s just a baby,” he said, and Edward picked up one of the folders that Rian had put on his desk.

"Yeah," he muttered through a mouth full of chicken. "That’s what you say NOW."


	14. why they call it falling

It was raining out, a soggy cold rain that was somehow warm enough to melt the snow that still lay layered on the ground and on the roofs. It was still winter, but the tightness of the metal pressed against his collarbone told Edward that the weather was changing, slowly but surely. All that being said, the best feeling in the world was to curl up on the couch, nesting under the heavy blanket that Winry had given him Yule this past year with coffee at his elbow and a book about alchemy and architecture.

The problem was, he could not concentrate on the book.

Everyone had left the office in good cheer, despite the dreary weather. Bailey had actually invited Edward along with them to the officer’s bar, but Edward had politely declined after seeing the look of absolute panic that crossed Cushler’s face. There were some times it was apropos for him to hang out with his men after hours, and some days they just needed the space. Havoc had chuckled about it when he drove Edward home.

Tomorrow was a work day as well, so Edward had left the whiskey on the bookshelf alone. He could drink himself into a solid stupor easily, thinking on things that could have been but hadn’t, and people who should be here now but aren’t – but he wouldn’t. However, distracting thoughts were looping in his head and he could not quite shake them, no matter what he did.

It felt a bit like a betrayal really, to even be entertaining these thoughts as vaguely as he was. There was a strange tightness in his chest and Edward shook it off, shook his head physically, and stared down at the book held open in front of him as if the words would soothe away the ache.

Nothing really would ever make that pain go away. He had accepted it a long time ago, he had to swallow it down and accept it to even begin moving forward. It was a hard thing to do, to come to terms with the slow, dull ache of loneliness; the empty bed and the empty kitchen and the empty chair. He couldn’t even go on that side of town – he had once had to go to dinner with two other officers and they lived on that same street, Edward almost threw up when they had to pass his house. (The windows lit bright, an overturned tricycle in the yard; a happy home for a happy family and Edward’s memories locked forever in its walls.)

He could not dwell on his memories. Edward’s throat tightened, the rain pattering loudly against the large window in the den, the curtains pulled shut to keep the cold out and he could remember Roy drowsy in the rain, laying half over Edward as Edward lay on his stomach, a book propped open against the headboard as he read aloud in an ancient forgotten language. They were warm and comfortable and companionable, Roy was content to lie there and listen as Edward droned on in a foreign tongue. He dropped the book on alchemy and architecture, it overturned on the carpet and Edward didn’t care, grabbing the edges of the blanket and pulling it tighter around himself and tried to block out the memories.

Roy. Roy. He didn’t think it was possible, but his memories were starting to bleed at the edges. The way he wore his hair, the crisp lines of his uniform, the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when Edward made him laugh, genuinely laugh, he was always so surprised to laugh like that, like he wasn’t supposed to – they were starting to run together, memories fading slowly into the mists of time. The worst of it, the thing that Edward was most terrified of was that he would forget the way that he smelled; rich and earthy and the slightest tinge of sulfide from his gloves.

He couldn’t have this at the office, where he was supposed to be a leader; supposed to be someone that people looked to keep the alchemy division together – he couldn’t even have this around Al, not anymore, he knew that the thing Al feared the most was a relapse, Edward having another ‘episode.’ It wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t let Alphonse worry like that. Alphonse had a wife and kids, a family of his own to look after and Ed knew he would drop everything to help his brother, and that was the last thing that Edward wanted him to do.

So here, alone in his flat, a blanket wrapped tight around him and the rain hitting the glass, this was where he could mourn. He could mourn for lost love, for lost possibilities and lost time; it was Roy’s smile – not a smirk, but a genuine smile at seeing Edward descend off a train, it was the smell of burnt coffee in the morning as he fought with the percolator that never worked quiet right, a soft sigh and the crinkle of newsprint as he read the evening paper. It was his whole world that he lost, and even now he was not sure how he was put together enough to even begin to function again.

The knock came like a gunshot, sharp and quick, a rat-a-tat-tat that made Edward jump. He lifted his head wildly, his eyes still burning and he scrubbed at them with his palm. He rose to his feet, thought about taking the blanket and then left it puddled on the sofa. He rubbed his palm over his eyes again, his throat sore and he threw open the door without checking out the peep hole because fuck, if someone wanted to point a gun at him there were even odds that he would break that person in half or welcome the release from all these feelings that felt like he was going to drown in.

Edward didn’t know what he expected when he opened the door. It was late, it was a blustery early, (early, early) spring rain that sent a chill down his back and to the nerves that ended in wires and it was supposed to be Lieutenant Havoc standing there with word that some fuckhead with a certification had just fused himself with the ceiling and set half a building on fire.

Instead, it was Rian.

Standing on his stoop, staring defiantly up at Edward, rainwater dripping from his dark hair and running tracks down his face. Rian Martin, the Gale Alchemist, really fucking young to be licensed but this military would license anyone who could harness alchemy to kill, whose dark eyes and slender frame and shaggy hair called to mind someone else, but Edward had to pretend he didn’t notice the resemblance or it would legitimately kill him. Rian stared at him, his large dark eyes opaque in the darkness, his hair windblown and Edward remembered kissing him, weeks ago, in the filing room.

(It wasn’t the same, that little voice told him; Edward had to remind that little voice that it would be really fucking weird if it WAS.)

Edward swallowed, his voice wanted to break and somehow, somehow Edward kept it even. “What are you doing here?”

You should be miles away, you should be in East City; South Central; the military barracks, far away from me and my broken, broken shell – what are you doing, don’t you know how dangerous this is – and Edward licked his lips, and shivered.

Rian was – Rian made him feel guilty, Rian was young and full of promise and yet he was fascinated by Edward, drawn to him, followed him around like a lost puppy until he plucked up the courage to take without asking, stealing a kiss here and there. Edward should have been appalled, should have stopped this entire thing weeks ago but there was something about Rian that made him hesitate.

Edward suddenly felt dizzy. It was a strange feeling, it was like he had actually stepped outside of his body for a moment, as Rian opened his mouth and tilted his head and before he could even respond Edward had his wrist and yanked him forward, catching him in his arms. Rian grunted, tripping over the cracked concrete stoop but Edward caught him easily, bearing his weight and turning, pinning Rian to the wall just inside the door and kissing him. Rian’s mouth was hot, it felt like it was burning him but Edward was too disconnected to care. The wind blew the front door around, catching it and slamming it and that caused them both to jerk, separating in surprise.

Edward looked to the front door, and Rian grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, panting wildly. His face was red, red from his nose to his ears and Edward knew it was not from the cold. He licked his lips and swallowed, staring down at him and realizing what a colossally bad idea this was, and how much he didn’t care a bit.

“I had to come,” Rian said, his voice ragged. He was breathing hard and Edward realized it was not just from the kiss, he must have run through the rain, run the entire way from the train station. “I had to come, don’t you understand, I had to be here-” his hands were in fists in the white material of Edward’s shirt, the old button down becoming transparent with water where Rian was clinging to him. “I couldn’t go back alone, I can’t do that anymore, I just-” Head bowed, dark hair hanging into his eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Colonel, I just can’t.”

Edward still felt dizzy, the words spun around his skull like he couldn’t quite understand them. His hands on Rian’s shoulders, looking down at him, and this time his voice did crack. “I can’t.”

Fine little cracks were spiderwebbing through his resolve, kissing was one thing, but Rian couldn’t possibly understand what he was asking. Edward couldn’t allow it, shouldn’t allow it, especially not now, not when his thoughts were consumed with another, a dark-haired man with a sad smile and sad, dark eyes.

Rian pulled him down into another kiss and Edward lost, he had lost this battle, this war weeks ago now, the first time that Rian kissed him and he kissed back. He wrapped his arms around Rian, one hand sliding into the back of his denim jeans and he felt Rian go stiff as a board against him. Edward didn’t open his eyes, his mouth still in the area of their shared breath. “Are you sure this is what you want,” he breathed, Rian’s scent intoxicating him. “We can’t go back from here, if you walked out that door right now I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“Colonel,” Rian said, both of his hands in Edward’s hair, one yanking at the hairband. “Shut up and kiss me.”

* * *

It had been a long time; but it wasn’t like it was something easily forgotten. Rian was eager, new to this but ever so curious and only the slightest bit hesitant; on his back with his legs wrapped around Edward and his eyes shining in the semidarkness, teeth clenched in pain. Edward kissed and kissed and kissed, every inch of that body, every scar, every crease, until Rian giggled and moaned and shuddered.

He didn’t balk at the automail – he knew it was there, or at least the arm, he had seen Edward in a tee shirt, the metal plate providing added bulk that made one shoulder larger than the other. Rian ran his fingers along the seam of metal and flesh, kissed the heavily scarred tissue and while the nerves had been dead there for a very long time, Edward swore he felt the faint brush of lips.

Despite everything it wasn’t meant to last long – it had been years for Edward, it was all he could do to try to make the encounter last for Rian’s sake, but Rian came early, back across his belly as Edward gripped his ass tighter and lifted him off the bed.

Rian lay against him, his head tucked under Edward’s, his breathing slow and steady. He had drifted off almost immediately, exhausted from the quick release. Edward envied him that sleep quietly, he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling in silence.

He thought of Roy, for the first time in hours. Roy from far away, with a soft smile and a nod and Edward felt the slightest bit at peace. It was not a feeling he expected, or even a feeling that he was used to. Peace was always something meant for other people; meant at the end of a long journey, requiescat in pace. It wasn’t something he ever expected to feel again, not at least while he still drew breath into his lungs.

When he closed his eyes, he dreamt of Rian.

_(and you were inspiration, when no one else believed  
you saw the strength in myself that no one else could see)_


	15. volcano

Rian Martin was – (don’t think that word, DON’T) – in love with his superior officer. As much as his brain balked and rebelled at the notion, as much as it made him flush so hot he thought his face would melt, buried in the pillow of the tiny military dorm room he had been assigned, it was the truth. He couldn’t even function for thinking it, thinking about his hair golden in the sunlight, his amused arrogance and the way his eyes flashed and then seemed to turn almost gentle when he saw Rian. It was unfair, it was completely unfair, and how could the Colonel not even notice how he had managed to get into Rian’s head and completely turn him upside-down and inside-out?

It hadn’t started out like this. Sure, he was a little overawed – being assigned to the unit of the (legendary, if he went by the gossip in the canteen, which was always rife with good and juicy information) State Alchemist. He shouldn’t have even been that amount of starstruck, but the Colonel had saved his life, even if he was an ass about it. Rian shifted a little, uncomfortable on the bed, and rolled so he could look at his hands.

Permanent reminders that were etched on his palms, where the fire of an alchemical rebound seared the imperfect transmutation circles. The scars were dark and fresh, the burns were only recently healed. The nurses at the hospital thought that maybe with some care they wouldn’t scar, but he had not been so lucky. They were not perfect, his technique had been flawed and he was too consumed by his own vengeance to take in to account the possibility of a rebound. By all accounts, that encounter should have ended his life, along with the General he intended to assassinate.

And yet. He was alive.

Rian pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. Alive, and in good standing with the military. A total of three people had seen his initial assassination attempt – the Colonel, General Armstrong, and the late General Howard. Major-General Armstrong clearly hadn’t cared in the slightest that he had attempted to kill the General … and the Colonel? Rian wasn’t good at reading his face, but he had been in the man’s unit almost six months and no mention of it had ever been brought up again. In fact, if he didn’t know any better he would have to assume that the Colonel had completely forgotten the role that Rian played.

But he didn’t. The Colonel didn’t forget things like that. He watched Rian buzz about the office, he would tease Rian, friendly with only a hint of barbed words, he would assign cake missions to Rian that sent him flitting across the country on courier missions and garrison inspection assignments. After two months of this, Rian realized it, plain as can be.

The Colonel sent him away from danger.

State Alchemists were human weapons drafted by the military, under the pretense of research. They were a hundred percent funded in everything they did, and as a result the military got the patents and usage from all of their state-funded discoveries. And if it so happened that a conflict broke out while you were on the books? State Alchemists were usually first sent to the front lines.

Rian could fight. He would fight, he wasn’t afraid of the thought of combat like some of the others who had passed the State Alchemist exams. He had weaponized his alchemy early on, he had intended to use it for assassination, he had never expected to get the certification, to be handed a silver watch and a title as if it was something to be proud of. When he learned he was going to be assigned to his unit, well. Who knew what was going to happen?

The Colonel protected him. Rian knew he thought no one would else would notice, but he did. How the most dangerous assignments the Colonel usually took on by himself, or at worst with Lieutenant Havoc or Captain Hawkeye as backup. Rian would come into work on a Monday and be confronted with the Colonel wearing bandages wrapped around his head, or a tear in his military jacket he hadn’t bothered to have fixed yet. He would smile at Rian, and Rian could feel himself teetering on that precipice.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to have a future, and now that the door was wide open to him he didn’t have the first clue what he was supposed to do with it.

(Blond hair and golden eyes and the Colonel rolling his eyes after a particularly long and annoying meeting, smiling when Rian entered the office, sleeping at his desk, boots on the blotter and an open book over his face to keep out the sunlight, god, what was WRONG with him?)

Rian wrapped his arms around the pillow and buried his face in it. He didn’t know what he was doing, how could he know? All he knew was how he had made those gorgeous golden eyes widen in surprise when he stood on his toes and kissed him. He didn’t – there were no words he could say to express these feelings, so he had to rely on action. Action the Colonel could understand.

And he did understand; or at least Rian thought he did, based on the fact that he had pinned Rian to a shelf in the filing room and really kissed him. It was amazing and terrifying and left Rian shaking in his want for more. He needed this, he didn’t know why it had to be the Colonel but it had to be the Colonel. The Colonel who stood over him just a little bit, just enough that he could look down at him, his fingers sure and yet at the same time hesitant to touch him – the heaviness of that prosthetic that he pretended did not exist, yet Rian could feel the weight of the metal under the soft touch to his cheek.

The Colonel who he loved.

Don’t think that word you idiot, that’s the most dangerous word out there, you haven’t even really told him yet how you feel and you can’t just, you can’t just decide that this is how this is going to be.

And yet.

And _yet._

The Colonel had kissed him back, had sought him out to do so. The Colonel had put his hands on Rian, had kissed him, tilted his head up to meet his own and they had shared a too-close breath and the quietly whispered promise of more, someday, more.

Someday couldn’t come soon enough.

_And after all this waiting  
for skies to fall  
I need this to be real  
(oh please let it be real)_


	16. dying land

Rian Martin stomped through the short brown grass, kicking up mud as he went. It was soggy out – the sun had been out earlier, there were still little piles of brackish snow that had been too large to melt during the day left in corners and hidden in shadow, but mostly the ground had turned into a soggy mush. They had moved into that between-time, when winter hadn’t quite let go of the death-grip it had on the country but spring hadn't started to bring out the big guns.

The Colonel hadn’t been at home OR work today; Captain Hawkeye had been the only one in residence and she was actually packing up to head out to the shooting range. Rian had wandered in to be a bit of a butt, he had finally worked out what had been bothering him about a transmutation circle that just had not been cooperating and it wasn’t the change in the binding circles that the Colonel had sleepily suggested a few days prior. It wasn’t often (more like never) that he got to one-up the Colonel so he needed to do so as quickly as possible.

“Where is he?” Rian stood in the doorway as Captain Hawkeye pulled on her coat, buttoning it brusquely. He knew that the Captain knew exactly who he meant, the disappointment in his voice was hard to quickly mask.

Her answer had not satisfied him either; usually Captain Hawkeye was straight to the point about these things. Her answer was oddly evasive, so Rian decided to just go bother the Colonel at home. He was no stranger to the man’s residence, he had been there before delivering papers in off-hours, or worse on pick-up duty in the morning when the Colonel REALLY didn’t want to go to work.

He wasn’t there either. If he was gone away on a mission, Hawkeye would have said something – at least Rian liked to think that she would have told him. So he had no answers, and a strange little nugget of worry had nestled its way into his gut, sinking the bright ball of pride that had been floating around his rib cage all morning long.

The last place to check was the library, but Rian really did not think that he would find the Colonel in residence there. He had more problems being kicked out of the library than any person that Rian knew of five times over; he had probably broken every rule on record and at least a few of the more recent additions to the regulations had to have been effected in order to deal with the colonel through all his years.

Fortunately, the military branch of the library didn’t keep to standard hours. Research happened at all hours of the day and night, and a skeleton staff was on hand after banking hours. Rian nodded to the sole librarian manning the desk, who barely looked up to see him flash his watch as he walked by.

The research rooms were almost all dark, except for the one at the very far end of the hallway. The room wasn’t listed as reserved, but there was a big x through the name slot. Rian nudged the door open and peered in.

Edward was sprawled out on the couch facing the door, dead asleep. A book was held open on his chest, probably the only reason he hadn’t lost it to the floor was because it was his automail hand laying atop it. Rian shook his head in amusement and quietly opened the door, checking his feet as he entered.

It didn’t take long to pick up the mess that the colonel had made of the research room. Rian stacked the books neatly on the table, took Edward’s greatcoat from the back of the door and used it to cover him. Rian kept Edward’s place in the book he was sleeping with, but then sat down on the floor with his back to the couch, holding the book open to the page and skimming down the paragraphs on the page, idly curious about what Edward had been researching.

It took four paragraphs before Rian realized his familiarity with the work. He had read through this book several times in the course of his own research, it was a highly advanced work, one of the few dedicated exclusively to air alchemy.

Edward was reading up on his specialty.

Rian closed his eyes and smiled.


	17. intentional hurt

He’s stupid. He’s done his share of stupid things, monumentally stupid things, there should be a museum dedicated specifically to the fuck-ups of one Edward Elric (co-signed Alphonse “I told you not to do that, Brother” Elric) - but this newest entry into the annuals felt particularly egregious. Perhaps it was because in the cold bright light of morning he could see the damage done more clearly; the heat and the lust evaporated and leaving….

…regret? No, not quite. Edward had moved softly, sliding out from under the blankets and letting the cooler air in; the other occupant of the bed curled away from the cold, pulling the blankets tight. It wasn’t quite regret, that made his throat constrict when he looked at the lump, bits of dark hair escaping from the end of the blanket. It was not regret, it was not shame – but it was a cold sensation that made its way up his spine, that curled like a hard ball of stone in his belly, a sensation that made it hard for him to draw breath into his lungs.

It was fear, he would later realize, his flesh hand trying vainly to leech warmth from a home-brewed cup of coffee; Rian still asleep in his bed. Edward knew fear, he had known it intimately, and yet it still seemed so foreign that it would take him this long to identify it. This fear was not quantifiable, not easily put into a box or examined under a microscope, identified and tagged and lined neatly on the shelves of his mind. It coiled in his gut like a viper, biding its time, waiting to strike.

He could feel it surging slightly when he heard the rustle of sheets from in the bedroom. How he was able to hold his coffee cup in his right hand without either the cup of his automail rattling would be a mystery he would take to his grave.

The litany of reasons that last night should not have happened was long and mentally dictated by his brother – Rian was a little less than a decade younger than he is, is his direct subordinate, looks uncomfortably similar to (NO HE IS ALLOWED TO HAVE A TYPE, DAMMIT) … also there was that no-getting-around it fact that clearly he had been looking to Get Fucked, and Edward had taken advantage of that. CLEARLY taken advantage of that. He was twenty-five years old and still not ready to be the adult in the relationship. There were bad ideas, and there were bad ideas.

Rian popped a fuzzy, scruffy head around the corner into the kitchen, squinting blearily at the bright fluorescence that drowned out the mottled gray of daylight. Edward looked at him, tried not to look like a frightened animal (which was harder than he reckoned it ought to be, all things considered), and Rian gave him much the same look in return. They were frightened of each other, and this was patently, completely ridiculous.

Edward licked his lips. “There’s coffee on,” he said. “If you’d like some. I’m afraid I don’t have much by way of breakfast, I don’t-” I don’t invite people over, I don’t feed people breakfast, I’ve been the only one who slept in that bed since I purchased it, “I don’t usually eat. Breakfast.”

Rian was looking around the kitchen, as if he had never seen it before. Practically everyone in Edward’s command had been here at some point or another, Rian included – but he was looking at the room with fresh eyes. As he turned his head, his hair all spiked funny from the way Edward had clutched him in his sleep – he could see the dark bruise under his jaw and Edward’s face turned red.

There would be other bruises too; Edward just could not see their evidence under the dressing gown Rian currently wore. There was a shade of remorse in his gut, but that was being overshadowed significantly by the fact that Edward had done that to Rian. He had marked him. He had made Rian his. It made his body thrum with all sorts of excitement, and Edward was truly having to restrain the reaction of standing up, slamming Rian against the wall, and showing him exactly how owned he was at this very moment.

Somehow, magically, Edward kept his composure on and focused on not cracking the coffee mug. Rian was being deceptively quiet, but he was giving Edward this look, mostly from the corner of his eyes as if he was afraid (oh hell, ashamed) of looking at him directly. “Rian?”

Rian looked at him then, one hand on the doorframe and said, softly, “We had sex.”

Focus on the coffee cup, don’t let it rattle. He wet his lips again, he did that a lot when it felt like the desert had transplanted itself into his mouth. “We did.” Do you regret it? Please don’t say you regret it, I don’t know how I am going to be able to live if you say you regret it-

However, Rian’s expression seemed to turn inward a moment as he considered. “I thought I’d feel different after,” he said. “Like … I don’t know, a different person.” He shifted a little, still one hand on the doorframe. “I am sore as hell, though.”

It was difficult letting out the breath he had been holding so that Rian wouldn’t notice it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s … it’s been a long time. For me.”

It took a moment, but then Rian grinned. It was a big grin, felt like the sun coming out from behind a cloud though. Edward could not help but smile in return, as Rian shuffled slowly into the kitchen.

Edward stayed perfectly still as Rian put both of his hands on Edward’s face, slowly, before tilting his head up to kiss him. A good morning kiss – when was the last time he had had one of those? Edward’s eyes drifted to half-closed and he could feel Rian grin against his mouth. “It was wonderful, colonel, thank you.”

Then he bit Edward’s lip, just enough that Edward jerked his eyes open, surprised. Rian drew his head back, smirking as he ran his hands through Edward’s tangled hair, and asked against his mouth - “so when are doing it again?”

Not now, Edward’s inner voice chided, as Edward put his hands on Rian’s face to hold him there, nose to nose, foreheads pressed together. “Now,” Edward said, and Rian made a happy noise against his mouth.


	18. what is and was

Edward draped his head over the edge of the couch, throwing his hand up over his eyes and groaning loudly. He had been doing this motion, almost exactly, for the last ten minutes while Alphonse ignored him. His arm and leg were both off, and while Edward had the spare replacement leg on at the moment it made him unsteady and he preferred to remain stationary for the most part. Alphonse had bookmarked his place in his book an hour ago, figuring he wouldn’t get much further, and he was completely right as his brother had woken from a nap irritable and clearly bothered about something.

Ed had been acting weird for the past two days. It wasn’t the baby – his brother had had plenty of time to get used to the fact that Alphonse and Winry had kids now (besides which, he didn’t seem as freaked out by Sarah as he did by Thomas, but that was because Alphonse figured kid #2 was old hat by now). No, Edward was sulking along, staring off into space and getting distracted easily. He didn’t even get upset when Thomas took apart his hand and his departure got delayed two days while Winry reseated most of the screws.

It was really, really weird.

Winry watched Alphonse sulk around their bedroom as he tried to put together what was bothering his brother. She sighed, shifting the baby from one arm to the other and pointing at the door. “If you’re gonna pace all night you can go downstairs,” she said.

“Ed’s acting weird,” Alphonse said.

Winry stared at him. “Are you dense? He’s in love.”

Alphonse stopped in place, and half-turned toward his wife. “What?”

“He’s in love, or at the very least has a puppy crush on someone.” She brushed the light, wispy-blond hair on top of her daughters head, looking down at the baby in her arms. “I’m glad. I was beginning to think he was never going to look at another person again. It’ll be good for him.”

Alphonse was still having trouble processing the initial thought. “You think Ed has a boyfriend?”

“Or a girlfriend, maybe.”

“That would explain so much,” Alphonse said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “The moping around, the exaggerated sighs, all of it.”


	19. fire and storm

“You’ve been gone all day,” Rian Martin said from the couch as Edward closed the door behind him. Edward sighed, an exaggerated motion, his shoulders slumped with either exhaustion or defeat. Rian unwound from his position on the couch, the blanket he was wrapped in sliding off his long legs and Edward froze, his coat half-off in the doorway.

It was unfair, Edward thought, and not for the first time. In the years after, once Alphonse had been restored and Winry had finally tweaked his automail to near-perfection, he finally had hit a growth spurt. Edward was still short (DAMN it), but not unusually so. His height did not cause him to stand out any more than Mustang did; in fact he nearly caught up to the old bastard, and at least achieved a similar height as Riza.

And then there was Rian, who when Edward met him the spikes of his hair barely brushed Edward’s nose. For the first time he was significantly taller than someone else, at seventeen Rian had been easily as short as Edward had been at fifteen. But alas, it seemed as though some things in this universe were a constant – the sun rose in the east and set in the west, you didn’t disturb Winry in her workshop, and Edward Elric would always be the short one in the relationship.

Rian brushed his fingers through Edward’s hair as he passed, shuffling down the hall and Edward heaved a great sigh of acceptance, hanging his coat begrudgingly. Rian had come back from an extended diplomatic excursion to Xing in the summer tan and lean and half a hand taller than Edward. It was unsettling, the maturity that had settled on Rian. He wore it well, although ‘goofy’ was still the factory setting, as was “flail self off of bed when Ed locates his ticklish spots.”

He was fortunate, then, that Rian was far too fond of being on his back where the relationship was concerned. It wasn’t that Edward would deny him the chance to top, in fact he would welcome the occasional change-up in their sex lives; but Rian dominating in that aspect would remind him far too much of another dark-haired lover, and his heart probably would not be able to take it. As it was, occasionally Edward would see it in glimpses; quick images out of the corner of his eye and he would startle, and Rian would catch Edward looking at him oddly.

It wasn’t as if Rian didn’t KNOW. He knew of Mustang, he knew of Edward’s relationship with him … and he knew how he occasionally resembled the man he would never meet. All the same, it wasn’t like Edward could stop Rian from being Rian.

Edward stood in the doorway to the kitchen where Rian lifted the lid off of a pot that was simmering merrily on the stove. Rian checked the contents and shifted the pot to a different burner, glancing over his shoulder at Edward. “Colonel,” Rian said, and pointed to the ice box. “If you’re just going to stand there, why don’t you help me finish putting dinner together?”

Roy never cooked, Edward realized as he moved bits of food between ice box and counter per Rian’s specific requests. They ate out all the time – and the few, sparse meals he had been privy too had been fairly utilitarian. Rian, on the other hand, had a huge adopted family that he had to, on occasion, cook for. Having to cook for ten and having to cook for two were entirely different beasts, and while Rian could cook a good meal, his attempts at cooking the RIGHT amount of food were still fairly inaccurate.

(All it meant, though, was that Edward better really like the meal because he would be eating the rest for lunch the remainder of the week.)


	20. dim as an ember

The colonel’s breath on the back of his neck made Rian wriggle slightly in the bed. He had been awake a while now, but the colonel lay half-draped over him, still quite deeply asleep. He couldn’t even turn to curl in toward the warmth, so Rian had just closed his eyes and let the weight of the colonel press him deeply into the mattress.

He couldn’t stop thinking of him as ‘the colonel.’ Edward, his name was Ed, the name rolled off his tongue when they were pressed together so intimately, but even now Rian’s brain reverted to default mode – and default mode had Edward labeled officiously as ‘the colonel.’

There was very little colonel-like about the snort Edward gave off in his sleep, and he mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘marshmallows.’

Rian grinned. It had not taken very long for the colonel to show him his sleeping, vulnerable face. The older man curled against him, blond hair tangled about his head and arms wrapped tight around Rian’s middle. His heart almost sang with his contentment. It was hard to believe that this, this was what had been missing from the equation, the one thing that made him feel whole was an arrogant, annoying prick of a colonel who apparently had the mindset of a twelve-year-old when he wasn’t forced to work.

It took a little while for that to click, but click it did.


	21. rainstorm

Rian Martin winced as Edward aggressively rubbed the towel over his head again. It was not that it hurt - quite the opposite, in fact - but he couldn’t see with the fluffy old towel draped over his face and Edward was QUITE brisk in his drying function. “Honestly,” the colonel huffed. “You’re - fuck, what, eighteen now? And you don’t even know when to come in out of the rain?”

Rian’s hands curled into fists against the cold white bathtub he was sitting on. He had not expected it to rain - the day had started out with sun, after all - but it had been a convenient excuse. Not that he really, truly needed an excuse to be here, he knew that the colonel appreciated his company but he was still really insecure about that fact. This was the man’s home he was invading, after all. On his day off. His one, solitary, single day off.

Edward lifted the towel off of Rian’s face and peered at him. “You still alive under there?” he asked, and Rian squinted at him. The light in the bathroom bounced off of every white surface, and it dazzled him somewhat. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and blinked muzzily.

“‘m fine,” he muttered sullenly. Edward’s mouth pressed into a flat line, and he turned to shake out the towel before draping it over the curtain rod above Rian’s head.

It wasn’t often that he was privy to Edward in casual clothes. Most of the time that he saw him, he was in some variation of the military uniform. Today, however, it was slacks and an old stained button-down with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arm. Edward caught his eye and Rian ducked, having been caught looking.

This was so strange and nebulous and NEW to him, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Edward was still his commanding officer, technically - although his few occurrences of trying to ‘pull rank’ had all been in jest, he had noted Rian’s knee jerk reaction to that and had, for the moment, shelved that particular repertoire of jokes. They were existing in this new space, somewhere between a relationship and not, and all at once Rian’s lungs constricted and it became hard to breathe. 

Edward had not been all that surprised to see him - Rian tended to stop by once or twice a week. It wasn’t all that unusual - even in the office Edward had somewhat of a mentor role with Rian, and they could write off the repeated visits as two geeky alchemists getting knee-deep into things that would make a normal human fall asleep in record time. They were geeky together, but they were also … more.

Rian’s hand shot out almost of its own accord, grabbing Edward’s arm by the sleeve as he turned away. Edward stopped and looked at him calmly, and Rian wanted to scream at him, it was RIDICULOUS, how can you be standing there so calm and collected when I feel like my heart is about to burst being this close to you, it’s just not FAIR - and Edward smiled for him and whatever it was that Rian was about to say died on his lips.

Edward removed Rian’s hand from his arm, and then, embarrassingly, leaned forward and kissed the knuckles. He went red instantly, all the way to his hairline and Edward grinned this saucy, amused look. “You’re staying the night, I hope?” 

As if on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance. Rian nodded his head dumbly, and Edward smiled more. “Good.”

Dammit, why didn’t he turn EDWARD into a quivering pile of mush with just a single smile? There was simply no justice in the world. Rian closed his eyes as Edward ran a hand through his damp, shaggy hair, and leaned in to kiss the top of his head. 

But then again, he would take this, too.


	22. sleepy

Edward was one of those who simply did not like to wake up in the morning. He had two alarms, because he broke one alarm clock every other day or so; and it was common routine for Lieutenant Havoc to have to pound on the front door for fifteen minutes at least once a week.

(Heaven help him if he had to get Edward out of bed in the middle of the night.)

Edward simply did not Do Mornings. He was of the opinion that the work day should not start much before ten a.m., and was not particularly enthralled with any officer who scheduled meetings before noon. 

Rian was completely the opposite.

He was up at the first buzz of the alarm, nudiging Edward with his feet, slithering under the blankets to get at ticklish spots, occasionally rolling Edward out of bed physically. There was a bright spot, an occasional morning romp, usually initiated by Rian’s hand on Edward’s crotch when he tried to rouse Edward into full wakefulness - but they were not a common occurence on the weekdays. As sad as it was, he simply did not always have the TIME to fuck Rian screaming into the mattress.

Although when he did? It was lovely, and he bounced into work as if on a cloud of air.


	23. morning routines

The two of them squeezing into Edward’s tiny bathroom didn’t always work out. Edward had taken to shaving in the shower, which worked wonderfully except that he usually showered before bed because showing up in the office with water dripping from the end of your ponytail was exceptionally bad form. And while shaving in the shower was a smart plan, by seven am he had the start of a shadow along his jaw – so many years he spent cursing the fact he couldn’t grow facial hair to save his life and now what he wouldn’t give to be able to go BACK to that time.

Of course, operating around Rian – who always, always commandeered the sink, which wasn’t fair because Edward needed to lean against the fixture as it provided him a great deal of support in staying upright – was always interesting. Rian was much more of a morning person than Edward would ever be. He might be sleepy, or muzzy, but he functioned, an incredibly important task that Edward had never quite fully mastered. Roy was like that too – they used to have to lean against each other the bathroom, barely awake as they struggled through their morning routine.

(Although, Edward had never truly sussed out if it was because Roy wasn’t a morning person, or if it was because Roy always kept him up far later than need be. That was a happy memory, though, and Edward kept it filed carefully away for safekeeping.)

Edward would stare, half-awake, as Rian would bustle around the bathroom and vanish, to make breakfast (maybe) and coffee (YES) because Edward was going to brace his arms against the sink and maybe rest his eyes for a few more minutes, at least until the sink starts to overflow because Rian anticipated this and shoved a towel into the drain.

Their morning routine was weird, and awkward, and somehow, magically – it worked.


	24. Chapter 24

Edward looked up from the papers he had been squinting at for the last ten minutes and stared suspiciously at Rian. “Did your jacket just meow?”

Rian Martin was laying on his back on the old green couch that sat in front of Edward’s desk. He was angled away, so that Edward could only see the top of his fluffy dark head, but he was still wearing his heavy winter jacket despite the sunlight streaming in through the large picture windows. Rian did not even bother to lift his head, instead heaving a huge, illustrative sigh. “You’re hallucinating, colonel.”

“I’m not,” Edward said insistently, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the youngest member of his garrison. “I distinctly heard a meow.”

He had. Alphonse attracted cats to him like a streetlamp attracted moths on a summer evening, and Edward was no stranger to ill-timed strays. He was very attuned, and could recognize the plaintive mew of a kitten from pretty damn far away.

And he had HEARD a CAT.

He eyed Rian suspiciously, as Lieutenant Havoc knocked on the open door. “Yo, boss,” he called, raising a manilla folder in the air. “We got the rest of the arrest reports for Marcson’s gang, you want them?”

“Havoc,” Edward said, clearly glad for his interjection. He beckoned the Lieutenant over to his desk, and Havoc hesitated. He glanced at Rian, laying on the couch, and back to Edward. “Come here a moment.”

“Uh,” Havoc said. “Whatever this is-”

“No, no, I just want your opinion on something.” Edward was watching Rian’s head, not Havoc. He lifted a finger in the air as Havoc approached. “Did you just hear that?”

Havoc looked confused. “You mean my boot squeaking on the tile?”

Rian snickered.

Edward glowered at Rian’s head, and then looked at Havoc. “No, I meant the meow from the cat Rian is hiding and trying to pretend like he’s not so to make me appear like I’ve gone fucking nuts again.”

Havoc opened his mouth, thought better of what he was about to say, and snapped his mouth closed again. He sighed instead, and put the folder he was carrying on Edward’s desk. “I can’t wait for Captain Hawkeye to come back,” he muttered, and Edward glared at him.

“I’m sitting right here,” Edward said.

“Yeah, and somehow she’s the only one in this place you actually fear,” Havoc responded. “Are you going to be done with Miller’s report any time soon? We’re starting to get a bit backlogged.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Edward waved his hand at Havoc, effectively dismissing him. Havoc rolled his eyes and walked to the door.

Rian tilted his head back to look at Edward. “You’re funny,” he said, and Edward snorted. The tiny grey kitten wriggled its head out of Rian’s jacket and meowed, and Edward groaned, putting his face in his hand. “I’m keeping him,” Rian said.

“You are not,” Edward said, his face still resting in the palm of his hand.

“Why not? S’not like there isn’t usually one of us around to feed him. You’ve been living in the same place for as long as I’ve known you, AND the military dorms won’t let me keep a pet there.” Rian rubbed the tiny kitten’s head with one finger. “I named him Dickens.”

Edward folded his arms on his desk and put his head down. “This isn’t happening to me. Did Winry put you up to this?”

“What, you mean because the Lieutenant Colonel has seventeen cats, three dogs and two kids you think that Winry would tell me it’s a good idea out of some misguided sense of revenge for the menagerie that she has to deal with on a daily basis?” Rian smiled down at the kitten, who had closed its eyes and was purring contentedly.

“Did you seriously just say all that with a straight face?”

“I’m keeping him, Colonel.”

“God dammit,” Edward said into his arms.


	25. love

Rian gasped, one hand braced on Edward’s automail tucked tight around his stomach. He was being held in place even as Edward kept moving, his body shifting against the colonel’s, bearing down even as he kept pushing up, up, up.

It was dark in the bedroom, but the lights from the den spilled across the bed, strips of golden illumination painted on rumpled sheets and bare flesh. Edward didn’t talk, his forehead pressed against Rian’s back, all his concentration on the task at hand. It was okay, Rian couldn’t think, he could barely breathe, every gasped breath felt like fire as Edward filled him. He was utterly consumed, totally and completely, heat spiking through him and settling in his gut as he rode this wave of euphoria.

Edward’s grip was firm, Rian was certain there would be bruises in the morning dark across his ribs and Edward would kiss them and ask his forgiveness, but right now Rian just held on, fingers caught in the grooves of his forearm plate, his mouth dry and the world starting to go rather wobbly.

Heat on his neck, warm and Edward’s tongue and then, teeth, marking him. Rian groaned, his throat raw, he was going to come without a finger on him and it was going to be so good-

He felt Edward’s thighs lock, holding him still, even as the man made the first noise he’d heard all night, a long throaty groan as the orgasm hit him. Rian closed his eyes, bearing down as Edward curled around him and hell, he couldn’t quite, wasn’t quite there…

Edward’s flesh hand was rough, wrapping around his shaft and squeezing and just that single hot touch was all he needed. The world went completely, dazzling white.

The rough, panting breaths on his shoulder brought him back and Edward’s voice, breathy and raw with sex resonated all the way through to his bones. “Fuck, I love you.”

Warm and sated and exhausted, Rian grinned, Edward’s face buried still against his back. “I love you too.”


	26. Chapter 26

Edward opened the icebox and hesitated. A foreign bottle was sitting there, right smack on the main shelf. He did not normally run the groceries in the house – that was Rian’s job, he had taken the shopping list right out of Edward’s hand one day and declared that he wasn’t allowed to help with the shopping, especially if he was going to insult the vendors – so the appearance of the bottle was not necessarily quite that baffling.

All the same…

Rian was lying sprawled on the floor on his belly, a pencil hanging from his mouth and a cat curled up between his shoulder blades. He was reading, the chewed-upon pencil moving slightly in his mouth as he thought. Edward put his hands on his hips and glowered at the patchy-looking cat, who was purring softly.

A cat. This was going on the list of things Alphonse would never let him live down, ranked right under that one incident with the tree that he liked to pretend never happened. “Rian,” Edward said. “There’s milk in the icebox.”

“Yup.” Rian’s eyes didn’t leave the page he was reading.

“There’s milk in the icebox.”

“Heard you, colonel.” Still didn’t lift his eyes.

“Why is there milk-”

“Cats and sane people drink milk.” Rian turned the page.

“No one sane drinks milk,” Edward muttered, and while Rian didn’t lift his head, the cat did, squinting at Edward before yawning, tiny mouth exposing some wickedly sharp, if tiny, teeth. “That includes you,” he grumbled, but the kitten had put its head back down and went to sleep again.


	27. cooking time

Edward heaved a great sigh as he stood next to Rian in the kitchen. Rian was opening and closing the cupboard doors, looking for a particular skillet and Edward was keeping a weather eye on the already-in-use burners on the stove top. It wasn’t all that long ago that it would have been Edward standing on his tip-toes, trying to figure out where the pan had gotten to.

But now it was Rian who had the longer reach, and apparently the laws of nature had prevailed, because Edward was officially no longer the taller person in the relationship.

Rian didn’t seem to notice the sigh of exasperation, or if he did he properly ignored it. “Where could that stupid frying pan have gone?” His aggravation was evident in his voice. Edward shrugged his shoulders loosely, using his automail hand to transfer one hot pan to another burner, to free up the hot one. “You’re the one who cooks,” he said. “Where did you see it last?”

“In the sink, covered with soap suds,” Rian said, and Edward didn’t meet his glare. Generally, Edward was on clean-up duty as most of the time it was Rian cooking the meals. So that really meant that the pan could have gone anywhere, including into the den.

“Sorry, I don’t recall what happened to it.” Edward stirred the sauce Rian was cooking gingerly. “Are you sure it’s not up there with the old casserole dishes…?”

This time he met Rian’s glower head-on, and he held up his free hand. “Sorry, sorry, just a suggestion.”


	28. thick

"You are an idiot," Edward Elric said, with about as much patience as he could muster. He yanked at the bandage and Rian Martin winced as it tightened around his hands. "And don’t you dare even breathe a word about what you’re thinking right now." 

"I wasn’t thinking nothin’," Rian grumbled, watching as Edward bandaged his bleeding hands. The pain had dulled to a mild throb, it wasn’t the first time he had ‘accidentally-on-purpose’ ignited the deformed transmutation circles scarred onto his palms, but it was the first time the rebound had affected him so painfully. 

"I’ll say." Edward’s military jacket was lost somewhere, and there was dirt and a small bit of Rian’s blood smudged on to the normally-immaculate white button-down shirt he wore underneath it. "I could have sworn I told you to keep out of this." He held both of Rian’s hands, palms-up, in his own hands. Even through the gloves he wore, Rian could feel the cool, heavy weight of the prosthetic automail hand. The bandages were thin, and small strips of red had already started to bleed through. "Rian, you cannot keep using these arrays, you’re going to get yourself killed." 

"I’m fine!" Rian yanked his hands away suddenly, blushing furiously as he tucked them under his armpits. It wasn’t like the colonel to even begin to act concerned about him, and this entire situation was dizzying. "I’m fine, they’re fine, why don’t you just go away and leave me alone?" 

He refused to meet Edward’s eyes, and after a moment of silence the colonel sighed deeply and got to his feet. The bottom half of his uniform was just as dirty as Rian was, there was a tear through the left leg that exposed the automail there as well. Rian glanced aside. “I’m sorry.”


	29. pray for me

"I can’t," Winry said, her voice exhausted. She had been sitting up late, a clean white cloth spread over the kitchen table and the innards of a client’s automail laid out before her. "I can’t do this any more, Al. I just can’t." 

Alphonse had been sitting up with her - automail was a bit beyond his ken, but it was a little too warm in the upstairs at the moment, and besides, if he set foot in the same room that Edward was in right now, no one would leave happy. 

He looked at the ceiling as Winry covered her face with both hands. She wasn’t crying this time, just exhausted, and Alphonse could relate. It was weary work, trying to heal someone who did not want to be saved, and Alphonse for the life of him could not figure out what was going on in his brother’s brain right now. 

Edward, who had not spoken a word in the two weeks since he had been home. He had not hardly eaten a bite, he barely moved, sitting up in his bed and staring silently out the window, looking for something no one else could see. 

Alphonse understood he had been hurt. Everyone had been hurt in the conflict, it was hard to lose someone you were so close to - but this living death that Edward seemed to exist in was almost worse. And nothing seemed like it would snap him out of it, not even when Alphonse had punched him. 

Winry ran her hands up to her bandanna, leaving small flecks of oil on her cheeks and forehead. She sighed deeply, and looked at Alphonse, eyes red-rimmed. “We have got to do something,” she said firmly. “He’s family.” 

"I know," Alphonse said. "I just don’t know what."


	30. departure

Roy looked as bad as Edward felt, blood smudged into his hairline and dirt streaked across his face. All the same, Edward tried to muster a smile for him and largely failed, the throbbing pain in his right leg cutting through his expression like a knife. 

The medic’s tent was the exact opposite of private, and Edward couldn’t reach for Roy like he wanted desperately to. It seemed stupid, this charade they kept up in front of unknowing eyes, but Roy’s career depended on it, and Edward - Edward couldn’t say that he understood it, truly, but he didn’t want Roy to fail on his account either. 

"We’re going back out there," Roy said, his voice hoarse with the effects of the dessert. "They’ve taken the rail lines, we can’t get trains in or out." His look was significant even if the words were unsaid. "If we can’t get you - and the others here - back to civilization soon, you may lose your other leg." 

"Eh," Edward knocked on his left knee. "Automail’s not so bad, really." There was something in Roy’s eyes that scared him. He wanted to grab at the other man, pull him down into a kiss but he was so aware of the other eyes in the tent and his resentment burned. "Lieutenant Hawkeye’s going with you, right?" 

"As if I could ever escape her," Roy managed a small, tight smile. "You just concentrate on getting well, Fullmetal. I’ll - we’ll be back soon." 

Edward nodded his head, licking his cracked lips. He wanted to say the words, they bubbled in his throat like acid but he couldn’t, he couldn’t take the risk. “Yeah,” he said, and tried not to let his desperation show through. “I’ll be waiting for your next order, you good-for-nothing colonel.”


	31. morning

"You have three minutes to get your ass out of bed," Rian yelled from the kitchen, flatware clinking in the sink as he rinsed off a plate. "Or I will get the hose, this time!" 

There had been no movement from the bedroom since Rian had rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn. Occasionally the overwhelming scent of coffee could cause the beast to emerge from its slumber - or even the sound of eggs sizzling in a skillet - but both weapons were ineffective today. So he had to resort to plan C. 

He wiped off the plate with a clean towel, and as he turned to place it in the strainer, he saw Edward standing muzzily in the doorway. “Finally,” Rian said, and Edward squinted at him, and scratched his tangled hair with one hand. 

"Do I even have a hose?" he asked, and Rian thrust a mug of coffee in his hands. 

"Hell if I know." He pointed Edward toward the kitchen table, where Rian had cleaned from the strewn mess of newspapers and classified reports that Edward wasn’t supposed to be taking home. "Don’t get coffee on the Briggs report, it’s the only copy we’ve got and Hawkeye’ll kill me." 

Edward shuffled the file Rian had been reading out of the danger zone, and paused. “You’re not cleared for this,” he said.

"And you’re not supposed to be bringing classified documents home," Rian retorted pointedly. "Alphonse’d kill you if he knew." 

"He gave me this one." Edward had not put it down yet, but held it clear of his coffee. "Something to do with … oh, oh I remember this one." He closed it and snorted, tossing it on the pile. "Yeti, or something." 

"Well, it did make for good breakfast reading," Rian said.


	32. blurry edges

Sometimes Edward slept at his desk, the exhaustion of a long day dragging down on him, to the point where he propped himself up with his automail hand to keep from smudging ink across his face when he nodded off. Those were the worst days, the days where they went from dawn past dusk and into the night, reports stacked high in the inbox, or the soldiers being mustered for conflicts at the border. 

He had never been much of a soldier, always the loose cannon, never fit for following orders. It was a miracle of miracles that he hadn’t been bounced out of the military over insubordination or worse - but there was a particular kind of luck that came with being Edward Elric. 

(A particularly sick and twisted kind of luck - but it was still luck nonetheless.) 

And sometimes, when he dozed at his desk, he would dream of Roy. Roy smiling softly, hazy in the sunlight; he would lean over Edward and brush his hair back, kiss his forehead, and then fade into his most pleasant of memories. Edward always woke with the most peculiar feeling after those dreams, the sense of loss palpable in his gut … how much had he actually accomplished, in the wake of Roy’s death? Years of work, in the field and at this desk, running in circles - had he really accomplished anything? 

But then there were the times that he woke at the contact, and swore for a moment that the dream was real - until Rian’s dark eyes registered that Edward didn’t see him and he stepped away, expression guarded. No matter how many times it happened, no matter how quickly Edward registered the correction, the wound was always there. 

Soon, Rian stopped waking him from those dreams.


	33. at the park

If he was lucky, sometimes Edward was able to sneak out of the office for lunch. The preliminary portion of the yearly State Alchemist examinations was over, and while his desk was buried under a perpetual avalanche of overdue reports, there were no meetings keeping him in the office during the usual lunch hour. 

Another point in his favor was that Captain Hawkeye was out of the office, so he only had to skirt Pvt. Cushler, who was reading a Timothy Quick novel at his desk instead of doing - whatever it was that he was supposed to be doing. 

It was not quite summer yet; the sun high and hot in the cloudless blue sky, but the solstice had not yet passed. Not far off base was a large park full of market vendors and food carts - it was a popular place, full of families and office workers, with nearly every third person clad in the familiar blue of the military uniform. He purchased his lunch, a sandwich and coffee, and found an abandoned park bench further away from the frolicking children and chatter of adults. 

It was a peaceful respite, to eat lunch outside in the shade of large, old trees. After so many years on the road, traveling by foot and the occasional camping out, he missed being able to be outdoors with the same frequency. 

"Colonel Elric!" 

Edward looked up - the notion of privacy on his lunch break was a thing of the past, especially if he left the sanctity of his office. Fortunately, though, he recognized the voice, and it was all he could do to keep a relieved smile off his face. “Rian, you’re still supposed to be in the South.” 

Rian Martin grinned as he trotted up. “Train got in early.”


	34. bad haircut

"It’s not that bad," Edward said, combing his fingers through his bangs distractedly. "It’s not really THAT bad, is it?" 

There was silence from the peanut gallery, that was never a good sign. Edward tugged at his bangs again, and looked over to Rian, who had somehow managed to perfect a disturbingly familiar poker face in the last twenty minutes. “Rian, help me out here!” 

Alphonse ran his hand down his face, lingering over his mouth. “Brother,” he said with a sigh. “Did you do that to yourself? Why would you do that-?” 

Edward’s look turned plaintive. “It is. It is that bad. Oh, hell, I have to go into work like this-“ 

Winry gave up all semblance of composure and folded over herself, howling with laughter. This startled Alphonse slightly, who glanced at her, bewildered, looked to Edward - who had gone to the mirror hanging in the hallway and was trying to twist around enough to see the back of his head - and then passed his glance over to Rian. “What?” he asked, befuddled. “I mean, it’s funny, it looks like Sarah took her scissors to him while he slept on the couch or something….” 

Rian raised one eyebrow, the grin barely contained on his face. Alphonse sat back and groaned, and then looked over at Winry, who was still cackling. “Please tell me you didn’t encourage this.” 

"I told her," Winry wiped tears from her eyes. "I told her to go play with him, I didn’t realize he had fallen asleep, or that she had found the scissors." 

Edward yowled from the hallway like someone had stepped on his tail. “Why is the back of my hair PINK!?” 

There was a pause, and then this time Alphonse and Rian both joined Winry in her contagious laughter.


	35. first date

Tuesdays were stupid, Edward had decided long ago. They followed Mondays on his chain of hatred. Tuesdays were meeting days, and boy did those old windbags in the senior staff love to chatter. On top of that, the diplomats from Xing were in town again and everyone had lost their shit over their them and Edward well, he had a fucking job to do, didn’t he? 

So he was trapped in his office two hours past shift’s end, trying desperately to think of a way to accidentally brick Senior Colonel Neuhaus into his office when Rian knocked on the door. “Colonel, what are you still doing here?” 

Edward looked up, and he honestly felt his irritation derail. 

Rian had, from somewhere, procured a familiar-looking suit. It was old, and slightly worn, but it made him look five years older, and he had not only combed his hair but slicked it back as well. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Rian touched a hand to his head, and then shook his head. “No matter, we’re going to be late, Colonel; it’ll look bad if you turn up late to this.” 

"Turn up late to what?" Edward was so confused, and he couldn’t quite process Rian at the moment. 

"The concert," Rian said impatiently. "The performance by the delegation from Xing? Captain Hawkeye was supposed to be your bodyguard for this but I talked her out of it. You owe me for that, by the way." He crossed his arms and frowned. "And that Xingian Prince keeps looking at you the same way you look at a steak." 

"Are you wearing my old suit?" Edward asked weakly. 

"I had to do some creative alchemy to get the trousers to fit right," Rian pointed at the clock. "We have to go now, Colonel."


	36. not good enough

"Are you KIDDING me," Alphonse Elric said, and slammed a book down on Edward’s desk. Edward woke suddenly, jerking upright and looking around wildly before focusing on the irate form of his younger brother. Alphonse had crossed his arms, irritation evident as he watched Edward flounder towards comprehension. "Brother, are you trying to give me grey hair? Thomas does that on his own, he doesn’t need your help!” 

Edward scrubbed his left hand over his face. “Al,” he said. “What - what the fuck are you doing here, do not tell me you took the train just to yell at me in person-“ 

"I have briefings all week in Central." Thankfully, Alphonse’s voice had returned to a more neutral tone, because Edward still didn’t have any idea why he was being yelled at. "I told you about this last month, anyway-" the darkness scrolled over his face again. "Do you recall Lieutenant Colonel Hayes?" 

Edward thought about this. He winced internally, and then offered up a weak “…no?” 

He may have gotten a whole lot better about not telegraphing his emotions, but Alphonse could read him like a book. He arched an eyebrow at Edward, and Edward winced again. “What happened?” 

"We knew Hayes was a spy from Aeruga," Alphonse said, mock-patiently. "He was planted somewhere safe where we could watch him. You, however, managed to get him reassigned, which rather makes this orchestration difficult." 

"Well, how was I supposed to know he was important?" Edward asked angrily. "You won’t read me in on most of your schemes. You’ll tell Rian what you are up to, but not me." 

"I thought it was a better idea to have you in the know, but the last time we did that you ended up showboating to stop an assassination attempt." Alphonse scowled.


	37. passing over

Rian had spread out all over the couch, he had staked it as his domain. Edward glowered at him but he didn’t have the heart to make Rian move, so he settled on the floor; his back to the couch. 

The weekend was almost here, but it didn’t feel like there was any time to rest. Summer meant it was time for the re-certification exams for all the active-duty State Alchemists, and ever since Edward opened his idiot mouth at the wrong time four years ago, he had been on the committee. 

At least, where enlisted alchemists were concerned, they could take the written, or a practical. Or, as most did, thankfully - they submitted their research. (That was the part Edward loved the most, he liked snooping around other alchemist’s research … or at least he thought he did, until he got to page seventy-nine of a treatise documenting the usage of alchemy on agriculture and the chimeric qualities of several hardy genus of wild wheat.) 

Rian held the book open above his head and sighed deeply. “I don’t want to take the written,” he announced into the silence. “You wrote the test, it’s going to be fucking impossible.” 

Edward was making notes. “You passed it the first time, I wrote that one.” 

"Yeah, that was fucking impossible too." Rian laid the book across his chest. "And I don’t have any research. What the hell am I going to do?" 

"Do a demonstration," Edward said. "Air alchemy is cool, people don’t get to see it often." 

Rian beamed a little at the compliment. “You really think air alchemy is cool, you’re not just saying that?” 

"It’s rare," Edward said. "Plus, a demonstration is better than, say, a sparring match because you’re not proving how you can be a weapon."


	38. missing you

Edward brushed his hair back with one hand and frowned at the face he saw in the mirror. It was too early for him to be fully awake, and the bruise on his jaw from the brawl at the station had only just started to fade. He tilted his head back, looking along the length of his jaw for other obvious wounds, and his eyes were drawn instead to the smaller, fresh bruises along the lower portion of his throat - considerately marked directly under the portion of his neck that would be covered by the high collar of the military uniform. Edward ran his fingers over them, and then turned on the tap. 

It was strange, the silence that had descended on his apartment. He should be used to it by now - he had lived alone for years, and now Rian was in and out, here and gone, hopscotching across the country on a whim as Edward sent him on clean-up duty jobs to keep him busy. If he lingered, Edward thought to much …. and even when he wasn’t here, the younger alchemist was a dominant presence in his life. It was a strange feeling that had blanketed him ever since Rian started stashing clothing in his closet and left a toothbrush in his bathroom - a feeling that Edward had not managed to put together yet. He should be used to things occurring beyond his sphere of control by now - but that really didn’t make it any easier. 

Edward’s fingers lingered on the marks on his throat. Rian had learned dominance quickly, he had learned precisely what to do to make Edward’s toes curl and his fingers claw at the bedsheets. And yet here he was, waking up alone, Rian’s side of the bed untouched.


	39. get on this one

Rian could hear the colonel from the hallway, which meant that he had forgotten to close his office doorway again, or he was having a meeting with Lieutenant Tringham again. Smart money fell on the latter, and Rian didn’t have time to rustle up a wager before he got into the office proper. 

Bailey and Cushler both were gathered around Lieutenant Havoc’s desk. They both looked up guiltily at his entrance, but Havoc merely raised his hand in acknowledgement. Captain Hawkeye did not look up from her paperwork. “Good afternoon, Rian.” 

"Ma’am," Rian said, and looked to the closed door. He was surprised it wasn’t shaking in its frame. "Lieutenant Tringham again?" 

"Every day this week so far," Havoc said. 

"Fantastic," Rian said, tucking the folder under his arm and opening the door. 

Colonel Elric was standing up behind his desk, both hands flat on its surface and his face a rather peculiar shade of red. Lieutenant Tringham was just opposite of him, arms crossed. He glanced to the door, the colonel kept his eyes on the enemy. “Now’s not the time, Rian.” 

Rian held up his folder. “Seventeen partially decomposed chimera, eleven killed,” he said. “Still haven’t found the fuckhead, but he couldn’t have gotten far. Figured I would stop in with an update, as you haven’t answered your phone all week.” 

The colonel finally glanced over at him, Rian’s words penetrating the haze of rage that he had cloaked himself in. “Only eleven?” 

"Yeah, I was figuring more too," Rian said. He held out the folder. "I need your signature on a few expense reports, then I have to haul out and catch the next train." 

It was a brief flicker, the emotion that crossed the colonel’s face, but he recognized it well. “All right, give them here.”


	40. locked away

It was the rain that woke him, pattering softly against the windowpane above his head. Edward blinked in the dimness of the room, the murky grey light of dawn sneaked in through the cracked curtains and cast the barest illumination across the floor. 

The weather brought with it the heavy, sleepy sensation of nostalgia. How many days had he spent in bed when it rained, with Roy’s sleepy, unguarded expression, his hair spiked funny and badly in need of a combing? He always complained the weather, and Edward tolerated it more than Riza ever would - because when Roy complained the weather, it was to that space between Edward’s shoulder blades as Roy wrapped him in a great hug from behind. It was warm and comfortable, and Edward’s eyes drifted closed, content. 

Rian snuggled in a little closer, Edward’s arms - well, arm, his right was flung out the other direction just in case - tight around him. Edward tilted his head toward the rumpled, dark head, his eyes creaking open against the gloom. Rian was a lot less susceptible to the changes in the weather - if anything, these days it was Edward who complained about it more. The changes in pressure bothered his joints, and where the seam of automail was pressed into his skin. 

"Th’ alarm didn’t go off," Rian muttered against skin, and Edward yawned. It was gradually growing less dim - hardly a bright morning, but clearly daylight. "Why’re you awake already?" 

Edward smoothed Rian’s hair down, and felt him shift against the bed. It was a little lie, but there were so many more like it that he didn’t even feel guilty any longer. He no longer cared if it made him a bad person. “No reason,” he said. “Guess the rain woke me.”


	41. red velvet

Winry stood in the threshold of the kitchen, one hand pushing her hair back from her forehead as she stared at the ceiling, aghast. “How did you get cake batter on the CEILING?” 

"Hi, mum!" Thomas said cheerfully, caked in a gummy mixture of flour and cake batter. Edward had Sarah under his arm, a spatula in his other hand, Thomas was perched somewhat awkwardly on Rian’s shoulders. The entire kitchen was painted in various shades of cake batter. 

"He started it," Edward pointed the spatula at the seven-year-old, who stuck out his tongue at Edward. Sarah kicked her legs and giggled, squirming under Edward’s arm. 

Rian winced as Thomas’s gummy, sticky hand almost went into his eye as he tried to grab for a better hold. “Uh, we’ll clean it up,” he said, trying to manhandle the squirming seven-year-old off of him and failing at that. 

"You’re damn right you’re going to be cleaning it up," Winry said, her voice promising a fit of apocalyptic ruin the moment that she was alone with Edward. "Where is Alphonse? He was supposed to be supervising this carnage-" 

Edward turned and pointed his spatula silent, and hair that had been stained red by the batter peeked from over the island. Sarah clapped her hands together and then held them out, shrieking “DADDY!” and giggling. 

"Uh," Alphonse said. "I can explain." 

Edward flicked the spatula loaded with cake batter at Winry. The batter landed in her hair, mostly on her bandanna, and she turned a very promising shade of scarlet. When Alphonse turned a horrified expression at Edward, he shrugged. “We’re screwed either way, so might as well enjoy-“ 

The egg hit him in the temple, exploding bits of shell and raw egg into his hair. Winry clutched the carton close. “It’s ON!”


	42. this battlefield

In the silence of the great room, the scratch of pencil against paper was deafening. It came from all corners, as amateur alchemists of all ranks scribbled conjecture and theory, postulated and formulated, all in the hopes of gaining that extra bit of funding toward their goal, and the goal of all those who came before them. It was a fool’s quest but they were not enlightened, not yet - and if they were fortunate their life’s work would not be in the vain pursuit of wealth. 

Edward Elric leaned in the doorway at the back of the room and watched the applicants hunched over their desks, lost in thought and theory. It had been long years since he had sat for the written portion of the examination - and longer still since that veil of knowledge had been drawn back for him, showing him the ugly truth of the world. These were dewey-eyed children, unwavering in their pursuit of the alchemical science - but he had to wonder how many of them would make it if they learned the truth? 

"You’re making a face again, brother." Alphonse had snuck up on him, which wasn’t unexpected. He was supposed to be in his office and had ducked out to take a look at the incoming applicants - as he often did. Edward sighed and glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at his younger brother. 

"Can you blame me?" He spoke softly, although the closest test-taker was quite a distance away. He nodded out at the applicants. "They should be warned, somehow." 

"That’s not your place, and you know it." Alphonse rested his hand on Edward’s shoulder, steered him from the doorway. "You can’t save everyone, brother - there are lessons that they’re going to have to learn for themselves."


	43. going solo

"You are aware that I’m an adult, right?" Rian asked, leaning in the door to Edward’s office, both hands braced on the door’s frame. It was a casual question, but it dripped so much malice that Lieutenant Havoc stood up quickly and excused himself. 

Edward sighed deeply - he was tired, and now was not the time for the fight that Rian had clearly been brewing all day. The kid could stew with the best of them (and Edward should know, being one of the best at it), and right now he couldn’t even think of the one-off comment that must have provided the fuel for this fire. “Can this wait until later?” he asked, rubbing a gloved hand over his eyes. “You can scream at me tonight, I don’t care, I just have to get this situation sorted out-“ 

Rian stepped in the room, and closed the door. He didn’t slam it though, that was a good sign - and then he too, sighed. “Dammit,” he said. “I’m a fucking State Alchemist, colonel - I should be out there helping, not in here doing whatever-the-fuck you think I should be.” 

Oh. That explained it a bit more. Edward lifted his hand and looked at Rian. “Three people are dead,” he said grimly. “I don’t want you out there.” 

"Soldiers," Rian said. "Not alchemists with ranged attacks." 

"Men," Edward said, his voice cold. "With guns. And bullets. It doesn’t matter if they’re soldiers or State Alchemists, people are getting killed and you are not going out there to join them." 

"You can keep saying that if it makes you feel better," Rian put his hand on the doorknob. "But you’re not going to stop me." 

"Are you disobeying a direct order, Gale Alchemist?" 

Rian’s eyes flashed. “Hell yes, I am.”


	44. the bad parts

"Why do you keep giving me the dead goldfish to dispose of?" Edward asked rhetorically as Alphonse placed the fishbowl on his desk. "You have a cat. Or three, if I recall."

"Yes, and with my luck one of them would vomit the partially-digested remains of Spotty on the kid’s bed," Alphonse said wearily. "Can you get me another one?"

"You let the kid name his fish Spotty?" Edward peered in the bowl. "You know, I sense a life lesson about the life cycle here."

"He’s five, Ed." Alphonse rubbed his face, and Edward glanced up at his brother, raising his eyebrow. "He’s a little young for that, and he’s REALLY attached to this stupid fish."

"Isn’t that, like, the seventh one?" Rian said from the couch. Alphonse glanced back at him, a scowl on his face. "I don’t know if I’d trust him alone with kids if he can’t keep a goldfish alive for a week."

"You know, we weren’t that much older when Mom died," Edward murmured, and Alphonse’s attention swiveled back to his brother. "There’s nothing wrong with learning life lessons early."

"Ed," Alphonse said patiently. "Mom’s death fucked us up."

"Well, yeah, but we turned out all right." Edward nodded, and looked at Rian for confirmation. "Right?"

"You’re a pedantic megalomaniac with a flair for pederasty," Rian said, and Edward’s smirk vanished. "What? It’s true."

"Wow," Alphonse said, clearly impressed. "He’s really got you pegged, doesn’t he?"

"I am NOT a megalomaniac," Edward said sulkily, and sat back in his chair. "What about Al, huh?"

Rian looked at Alphonse. “He’s got a wife, two kids and three cats. But, on the other hand the lieutenant colonel can’t keep a goldfish alive for twelve consecutive hours, so you’ve at least got that on him.”

"Yipee," Edward muttered.


	45. not quite the end

Rian stood before Edward’s desk, arms crossed and scowling. It had been three months - three! - since he had left out on a mission that took him through the desert, into a nest of terrorists hidden in ancient ruins, and managed to involve a hijacked passenger train. Three months of this crap and he barely made a standard pay grade as a State Alchemist. On top of the indignation of his tiny paycheck, there was the fact that his commanding officer didn’t even have the common courtesy to show up when his train arrived in the station earlier that same day. Rian Martin was in a MOOD, and there wasn’t an XO in sight to take it out on.

"Staring at the empty desk won’t make him suddenly appear," first lieutenant Jean Havoc said, leaning in the door. "And if you’re trying to set it on fire, might I suggest an accelerant? I don’t think your eyes alone will do the trick."

Rian swung his murderous gaze around and centered on Havoc. Jean was undeterred by the intensity of his expression, having been subjected to Edward’s moods for far too many years. “Where is he?”

"Meeting, probably." Jean shrugged. "I don’t do his itinerary, that’s Hawkeye’s job. You can go glare at her if you’d like."

Rian sighed, and glared back at Edward’s empty desk. “He’s an asshole,” he muttered. “He knew I was coming back today.”

"Countin’ down the days," Jean acknowledged sagely. "But you know how tetchy the brass gets about the weirdest damn things. Did you hear about that passenger train that got hijacked last week? Colonel Neuhaus was going to have a coronary. Or at least, I think the boss hoped he was."

"We should be so lucky," Rian muttered. "When will he be back?"


	46. children

Edward stared over the edge of the crib. The baby had a tuft of bright, straw-gold hair, and tiny, vivid blue eyes that constantly refocused as the different faces popped into view. “Do you think his eyes will stay blue?” Edward asked, shoulder to shoulder with his brother. “Some babies’ eyes will change color. Yours were blue at first too.”

"I think they will, blue is a recessive gene." Alphonse glanced at his brother. "And my eyes were never blue."

"Yes they were, I remember it. There aren’t any pictures like that because you were like eight months old before they took any pictures of you." Edward put out his automail finger and the baby latched on to it, tiny hand curling around the metal and eyes closing sleepily.

"There is no way you can remember that, you would’ve been barely a year old." Alphonse was smiling despite himself, watching the baby contentedly drift off clinging to Edward’s finger. "You realize now you can’t move, if you wake him he’ll start screaming again and Winry will kill us both."

Edward leaned into Alphonse’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, little brother,” he said, and grinned at him. “He’s perfect.”

"Winry did all the work, you should be telling her that," Alphonse murmured, very gently touching the tuft of gold hair. "But you’re right, he is perfect."


	47. the roaring quiet

It was unsettling to come home to a dark apartment now, even though Edward knew to expect it. He waved off Jean, who sat in the idling car curbside, before letting himself in. He knew that Jean would wait until a light came on despite being waved off - he was a good friend - so Edward slapped the first light on and listened to the old military car backfire as it puttered off.

Then he leaned against the inside of the door and sighed deeply.

His flat wasn’t very big - but it seemed immense suddenly, the darkness yawing past the very edge of the small lamp’s light. Edward dropped his keys on top of two day’s worth of mail, the plate he kept them on hidden somewhere underneath.

He knew that there would be no one home to greet him and still it unsettled him. He was used to the light in the kitchen being on, the smell of something cooking - or burning, as the case may be - noise, clatter, LIFE - but now there was silence.

It would look unusual if a State Alchemist hung around his garrison all the time. Edward told himself that, gave Rian the assignment with a grin, told him to enjoy the sun in the south and didn’t see him off at the station because it would be too suspicious. Neuhaus was watching him, Neuhaus suspected SOMETHING - though whether that was the fact that his protege was living with him or something else entirely - but all the same it was important that they kept up appearances.

And appearances were that they were coworkers, and nothing more.

How had Roy handled it, seeing him run off into the distance for months on end? He certainly wasn’t dealing with it well.


	48. in the grass

It was so weird to be out in daylight. The last time he could remember doing so and not being on the clock the air had been crisp and the sun was reflected off the knee-deep piles of snow along the boulevard. Edward wasn’t sure if that was before or after the new year - all he knew for certain was that it had been months since he had more than one day off in a row, and now he was lying in the sun-warmed grass and staring up at a cloudless blue sky.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have wagered that he was dead.

Rian poked his bare arm. “Don’t go back to sleep,” he said, and Edward lifted his head slightly. Rian was sitting back further, under the shade of the tree and still sitting on the blanket. He had a book open in his lap, but he was watching Edward closely.

"I’m not sleepy," Edward said, but it was a lie. He had meant for them to go out and do things, it was a gorgeous day. Their quiet picnic lunch had turned longer - Rian had brought along his research because he knew Edward, and knew exactly how long Edward had been running close to empty. Regardless, Edward tilted his head back in the grass, feeling the sun on his throat and face.

Edward didn’t know how long he had been drowsily lying in the sun, but it felt so calm and peaceful. The traffic from the motorway was far enough away that it was a quiet murmur, and really the only intrusive noise was when Rian shuffled papers or picked up a book. “When do we have to go back?” he asked.

"Not for a while yet," Rian replied, and Edward smiled.


	49. siblings

"Am I supposed to be impressed that you’ve signed yourself out of the hospital already?" Alphonse called into the flat, after transmuting the lock open. There was no immediate response, and he kicked the door closed behind him. "I know you’re in here - I didn’t bring Winry, brother."

After a moment, Edward’s head emerged from the from bedroom down the hall, bandages white against his bright yellow hair. “You’re lying,” he said.

"I’m not," Alphonse put up his hands.

"Rian’s with you," Edward said.

"Nope. He hasn’t checked in at a base in a week, he hasn’t heard." Alphonse nearly tripped over Edward’s boots, left in the middle of the dim hallway, but caught himself. "He’s fine, brother - I’ve got people watching him."

Edward wrinkled his nose and glared blearily up at his younger brother. “He’ll have a shitfit when he realizes you track him,” he said.

"I know, and he’ll blame you." Alphonse was entirely too cheerful about that fact. Then he shoved Edward back through the door, toward his bed. "Why the HELL did you check yourself out of the hospital-"

"Work t’do," Edward muttered. "Ow, hey- injured! Over here!" There were open files all over the rumpled bed - and, Alphonse winced with a sigh, a brown stain half covered by the sheets.

"Rian will actually kill you,” he said, and Edward blew out a breath.

"I am FINE," he said. "I don’t need anyone babying me."

"You pulled your stitches and bled all over the bed," Alphonse said flatly.

"Mostly fine," Edward amended. "I’m fine, I’ve had worse. It was just a stab wound."

The look that Alphonse gave Edward made him shuffle away. “I’ll be sure to tell Rian it was ‘just’ a stab wound,” he murmured.


End file.
